


Keep Me In the Light, and I'll Save You From the Dark

by darkbluesharpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Nyctophobia, Protective!Castiel, Self Lubrication, Virgin!Dean, angst and then fluff, attempted rape/non-con (not Dean/Castiel), bottom!Dean, control!kink, creature!dean, mention of minor cannon character deaths, mentions of implied gang-rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluesharpie/pseuds/darkbluesharpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luministia are people of light and happiness. There was a time when they were revered and respected, when they guided humanity in the darkness, and were said to have been descended from Angels. Now, they are hunted and killed for their powers. Dean has been on the run most of his life, living in fear that he would be discovered and taken. Until a blue-eyed stranger does just that.</p><p>Alternative summary: Dean has powers and it's really rare and he glows when he's happy, and Castiel likes to make him glow.</p><p>**NOT DISCONTINUED, JUST ON HIATUS UNTIL I FIND TIME TO WRITE**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from, one night I was just like, "Dean is so pretty, it's like he glows when he smiles." Then this happened. I will give warnings before each chapter if it contains trigger content.

Mary closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing under control. Minutes passing felt like hours after they took him away, until finally, the smiling doctor gently handed her a wrapped bundle and time seemed to stop altogether. The sight of her son in her arms immediately eclipsed the remnants of the pain from his birth.

It took some time, but the baby eventually stopped his crying and drifted off to sleep, exhausted from coming into the world. Above his restful state, his proud parents gazed at him with sheer joy. They pointed out features, played the "he has your nose" game, talked about all the things they were going to do as a family, and finally gave him his name- Dean Winchester. He was perfect.

And then he woke up.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, and they immediately fell on Mary's. Her sudden gasp caught John's attention, and he stood up from his chair beside her bed to look at what had warranted Mary's shock, before mirroring it himself.

Dean had green eyes. That in and of itself was not unusual, plenty of people in his family had green eyes, but Dean's were unnaturally bright, almost reflective. John glanced at Mary and saw her staring fearfully back at him. Before John had a chance to calm her that it might be nothing, their fears were confirmed when Dean smiled at them.

The effect started at his eyes, and spread over his face like a blush. A soft glow covered all of his exposed skin until they were sure they would be able to see him in the dark. He continued to smile up at them, happy as a new born could be, while his parents gazed back with dread and fear- not of him, but _for_ him.

Mary covered Dean with his blanket, shielding him from potentially avaricious eyes while John made arrangements to have them checked out early.

* * *

Dean shut the door of his car, and started his trek down the street, the envelope of large bills tucked safely in his jacket pocket. Even in the dark of the late hour, he could still make out the familiar houses as he passed them. A couple of blocks later, he stopped outside of a humble white suburban house, gazing through the window from across the street at the young man sitting on a couch and talking on a phone.

It had been almost eight months since Dean had last seen Sam in November, but it might as well have been eight years, given how much he missed him. As much as it pained him to distance himself from his family, he knew it was a necessary precaution. Just seeing Sam, even from this distance, nearly made his skin prickle, but it had been a long time since he lost control like that.

As glad as he was to see his little brother, safe and secure in their home, all he had to do was remember- what he was, how he was a danger to his family, that he had been reduced to gazing longingly at his own home without being able to enter it- and the feeling of joy immediately receded. Sam was better off as far away from him as possible. It was enough to take the happiness out of anyone's eyes.

The drop off had to be timed just right; he couldn't risk Sam hearing his footsteps come up the path, or seeing him through the window. It would have been easier to just put the envelope in the mailbox, but he couldn't run the risk of a postal worker finding it before a Winchester did.

When Sam got up and left the living room, and the bathroom light clicked on, Dean seized his chance. His father's large black truck was parked in the driveway, but the darkness upstairs told Dean that John must be sleeping. He moved as fast as he could without making too much noise, wedged the envelope in the door frame, and knocked on the door just loudly enough that he knew Sam would hear it.

He was sprinting through their neighbor's backyard before Sam left the bathroom.

This had been his routine once every other month, always on random days so his family wouldn't be able to put together a pattern for when to expect him. They couldn't know he was coming, and Dean couldn't risk them getting caught being in contact with him.

He was panting by the time he climbed into his beloved Chevy Impala and left the familiar houses behind him. He wished he could have parked closer; running around in people's backyards at night was a little creepy, but his family was sure to identify the distinct sound of his car, and would have known he was there.

As street lights flickered past, and he searched around for a motel to crash in for a few hours, he thought back to the envelope. Just a scrap piece of paper with a scribbled "I'm fine. -D.W." amongst all of the money Dean could spare crammed inside a small white rectangle once every month or two- that was the extent of his communication with his family. It made the isolation tolerable, knowing that he could at least provide his family small amounts of money to make up for his absence.

A few hours later, Dean pulled into a run-down motel once there was a comfortable number of miles between himself and Lawrence. The curtains drawn shut, he laid back on the bed, fast food wrappers spread out next to him and a beer from the gas station in his hand. He focused all of his attention onto the Star Trek marathon, and let his misery fall into the background. He was just about to start his next beer when there was a knock on the door.

Dean jerked his head at the sudden noise, casting a wary eye upon the entrance to the room, face filled with apprehension as he immediately started drawing up every worse case scenario his mind could think of.

He was followed. Someone must have been watching their house. How sure was he that he hadn't slipped? He was happy to see Sam, and even the tiniest glimmer of his eyes could have been seen in the dark. Was there an ambush waiting for him on the other side of the door? A group of people that coveted his powers, or just one person? It could be the government, black suits and black cars wanting to take him away for "observation," which Dean knew was their was of saying experimentation.

He crept towards the door, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of it, and glanced through the peephole.

It was Sam.

His sigh carried his relief and exasperation, and he smiled despite himself. Because it was _Sammy._ His skin started it's pleasant tingling sensation as he unlocked the door, stepping behind it as it opened so he would be hidden from view until it shut again.

And there he was- tall and lanky and taking up too much room, shaggy head of hair, worn-down plaid shirt, and just _there_. Dean couldn't stop the smile forming on his face if he had it in him to try. One of them took a large step forward- Dean couldn't tell who- and then they were hugging, one of those full-body, it's-been-too-long hugs.

When they broke apart, Dean could see his glow casting light on Sam, and reflecting in his eyes.

"Glad to see you too, Dean," Sam smirked at him.

"Haha, yeah," Dean looked away. The rush of emotions was mixing with his beers and making him slightly disoriented. "Hey, give me a sec, would you? I'm just gonna splash some water on my face." He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and trying to compose himself.

Turning the tap on, he drenched his hands under the stream before running them over his face, trying to get his bearings straight. It had been a long time since he let go like this. He put off looking in the mirror for as long as he could, but caught sight of his arm as he reached for a towel.

It wasn't the brightest he had ever been, as this wasn't the happiest he had ever felt, but there was a soft glow to his skin. A few freckles stood out a little brighter than the rest of his complexion, shimmery dots trailing up his arms and over his body.

His gaze followed them in the mirror until he landed on his face. Dean had always thought himself to be an attractive man by average standards, but that wasn't the reason he stared mesmerized at his own reflection. His face was emitting a soft light, not a full-on glow, but enough that it was noticeable. His freckles here stood out the most, some shining brighter than his skin, some remaining dark and adding contrast. His dry lips looked wet, and when he pressed them together, he could feel their warmth. Slowly, very slowly, he met his eyes in the mirror.

A thin solid circle around his pupils shined like reflectors, bright and alluring. And around that- green. Every shade of it that you could think of glimmered in his irises; dark specks, bright patterns, all of it shimmering like the sun's reflection off of water. It was beautiful, even he couldn't help but think so.

And Dean hated it- hated what it meant, what it marked him as.

With a sigh, he dried his face, and pulled away from his reflection back to the room where Sam was waiting.

There was a heavy moment between them, the kind where they could both sense an argument coming before the words were even said, but they drew it out, putting it off as long as they could, until Dean broke the silence.

"So how'd you find me, anyway?"

"Hate to break it to you, Dean, but your car's not exactly inconspicuous," Sam said with a smirk. "And it's not like you'd be in a penthouse suite." He briefly looked down, his jaw set, and Dean knew that face- it meant his brother was preparing his argument. Dean knew the points his bother was going to make before they were even said. "Listen, Dean-"

"No, Sam," Dean interrupted. "We are not going to have this talk. It was good to see you, but we both know-"

"Know _what_?" Sam snapped, looking back at Dean with defiance. "That running off without a word was the only option? That going radio silent for _months_ at a time was your best choice? That-"

"That it was the _only_ way to keep you guys safe. You know that, Sam, you know the people who are after me. The more miles I put between us, the safer you are, end of discussion." Dean gritted out. He didn't understand why Sam didn't _get it_. Didn't he see the danger he was in just by being in the same room as Dean?

"Look," Sam's voice went forcibly calm, trying to get Dean to see reason. "I know you have this bizarre notion which makes you think that by keeping your distance, you're protecting us-" Dean snorted. "-but it can't keep going on like this. _I_ can't keep going on like this."

Dean frowned at Sam, a small crease of confusion resting between his eyebrows.

"You don't know, Dean," Sam sighed. "You don't know what it's been like. I mean, you just up and left out of no where, no warning, no goodbye-"

"I left a note," Dean reasoned halfheartedly, a look of guilt on his dimming face.

"Yeah," Sam huffed an unamused laugh. "A _note_. Hell of a thing to come home to, don't you think? One sentence, just 'I'm sorry, but I have to do this. Take care of Dad.' Twelve words. And that was _it._ And then nothing, not for _months_. Not until an envelope appears on our doorstep, with an even smaller note, some crumpled up cash, and what, you think that's enough?"

"I'm making as much money as I can-"

" _Money?_ " Sam nearly shouted. He took a deep breath, the color in his face lightening as he tried to calm himself down, and Dean had a fleeting moment to appreciate the nostalgia of their childhood arguments. "I don't care about the _money_ , Dean. I care about _you_. I can't keep going on like this, not knowing if you're okay, if something has happened to you, waiting to see if someone found you..." Sam trailed off, and Dean saw the wary look in his eyes when Sam looked down. He looked tired, worried, even scared. For Dean. _Because_ of Dean.

"You think I want this?" Dean grit through his teeth, frustration just barely masking his guilt. "You think this is easy for me? To have left without a word to you, to have to be on the run _all_ the time, to know that you are better off _without_ me?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I understand you think you're protecting me. No, really, I do," Sam insisted when Dean made to interrupt. "But why does that mean you can't call me? Every once in a while, from different payphones, or a prepaid phone? Doesn't have to be everyday, just enough so that- so that I know you're okay?"

Dean held his little brother's gaze for a moment before ducking his head. He could feel his glow dimming, but still remaining stubbornly present, his frustration at the situation not being enough to abate his joy at seeing Sammy.

Try as he might, his resolve was breaking- he was going to lose this fight. Though, he reasoned, Sam had a good point. It would be risky, and they would have to take precaution, but he couldn't deny the fact that getting to talk to Sam directly and more often was something he wanted, and maybe he didn't want to put up too big of a fight against it. When he looked up again, he could see Sam at the ready with another argument should Dean continue to debate him. The thought make him glow just a touch brighter.

"You're gonna make one hell of a lawyer someday," Dean smirked at him.

Their night became easier after that. Sam stayed for another hour, reasoning with a reluctant Dean that if anyone had followed either of them, they would have known about it by now. They talked, Sam about school, Dean about what he's been up to- mostly his odd jobs, all without too much detail. Dean promised to buy a burner cell phone, and would call Sam within the week. All too soon, Sam was walking to the door.

"And remember-" Dean started.

"Don't take a joint from a guy named Don, yeah, I know," Sam mused, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

With a nod and a last lingering look at each other, their goodbyes stuck in their throat, Sam opened the door, and Dean hid behind it to block him from view from the world outside. He watched through the peephole as his kid brother got into their dad's truck and drove away.

Dean got ready for bed with optimistic thoughts in his head; he was going to keep in touch with Sam, know that he was ok, or if he needed help. He would get to hear about how he was doing, talk to him about his day, hear him complain about school, laugh about the girls he liked. Just like it used to be.

He may not be home, but at least he could have some shelter.

His skin was humming with light when he pulled the covers over himself, and for the first time in memory, he didn't try to stop it.

* * *

There was once a time when Luministia were revered and respected by all of humanity. Before electricity, back when the only means of having vision after the sun went down was fire and variations of moonlight, people relied on the kindness of Luministia to guide them in the dark, to provide protection when they were at their most vulnerable.

There was a time when they were loved, worshiped even. Myths claimed them to have been descended from Angels, sent from Heaven to keep mankind safe. Powerful and mystical, they were light manifested in a human being, celestial creatures walking among them.

Dean had laughed the first time he read the Wikipedia page on Luministia. " _Angels on earth_ ," " _Celestial beings_ ," yeah fucking right. If he were " _descended from Heaven_ ," why did he have to fight so damn hard not to be killed off? Surely an _Angel_ , he mocked, would be better at protecting themselves.

It was true he had some physical assets that accompanied his condition, some benefits that others might interpret as powers. For starters, he had a very strong immune system. That would sound pretty normal for your average healthy person and not altogether impressive before learning that Luministia were automatically immune to all viruses, bacterial infections, and general illnesses known to man. Their blood had many medicinal properties, and could even be used to treat and cure some diseases. Dean himself had never so much as had a runny nose.

His skin was useful for more than just looking pretty in the dark; it was resistant to direct burns, as well as extreme temperatures. He could stay in freezing water all day, and he wouldn't so much as shiver. Luministia also had perfect vision, and could even see in the dark, whether or not they were glowing. Their muscles could endure more pressure than the average man, making them abnormally strong for their size, and though there was no living example, it was rumored they aged slower, and had the potential to reach the age of 150.

And it was because of these "powers" that Luministia had gone from Heavenly protectors to prized game. They used to be great in number, with one Luministia watching over fifty humans, but they had been driven to near extinction, and were extremely rare, with less than a hundred registered born each year. Then again, there could be more out there- Dean himself was unregistered, as his mother had taken him home from the hospital before he could be discovered by a doctor.

Lucky thing, too. It was one of those things everyone knew about, but no one brought up. If a Luministia was documented at birth, that child was taken away from the birth parents, and placed into a government research program. From there, they grew up being lab rats. How else could they have proven that Luministia were immune to every known ailment if they weren't experimented on?

Dean might have escaped being a guinea pig, but he was far from safe. Given that a pint of his blood currently went for five thousand dollars on the black market, he would never be safe out in the open, should anyone discover what he was.

But there were worse fates for Luministia than just having some blood taken.

Dean wanted to curse whoever discovered it, the transitive properties of his abilities. He didn't understand the science of it, but he knew, thanks to the freaks on the internet, the mechanics of it. It all had to do with virginity.

Luministia were supposed to be pure beings of light and happiness, and somehow, if you made one glow and took their virginity, it granted you worthy of their powers. It reminded him of those old movies with psychics or fortunetellers, how they lost their gifts after they laid with a man. It wouldn't the same for him, as Luministia didn't lose their powers after sex, they only shared them. All it meant to Dean, however, was that dating was off the table.

Not that he could ever just date someone, anyway. Being in a relationship implied some amount of happiness, and happiness meant exposure. No, he was far safer keeping his distance. He was safer being alone, he told himself, and he tried not to dwell on the thought of living to 150 and still being lonely.

* * *

It was hot, even for Kansas in the summer.

After some debate, he had decided not to go too far from home after his little meeting with Sam. There were risks, sure, but if someone had followed him, if he had led a potential threat to his family's doorstep, he wanted to be close enough to be able to do something about it.

Besides, there were plenty of odd jobs right here in his home state. Today, it was assisting a couple of girls move some heavy furniture and boxes into their new apartment. It was a nice little place, one that spoke of being spoiled and rich.

The girls, likely in their mid-twenties, watched him as he went from room to room, advising him on what went where. They giggled when he would wink at them. Easy money.

It should have raised someone's interest that he was doing so much work in ninety degree weather, and wasn't breaking a sweat or showing signs on needing to slow down, but his temporary employers were too busy checking out his ass when he walked away to pay the oddity any notice. It was fortunate for Dean, as he usually had to put on a front, pretend he was getting worn down and needed a break to avoid suspicion. He just wanted to get done as fast as possible and get his money so he could go back to the motel and call Sam.

The weekly phone calls were becoming the highlight of his life, which might be just the tiniest bit depressing, but Dean couldn't care; he got so happy hearing his brother on the other line, he had taken to grabbing a pillow, and making himself comfortable in the bathtub, curtain drawn and bathroom door closed to assure no one could see his glow from outside his motel room.

About two hours and some easy flirting later, Dean had earned his two hundred dollars in cash. As expected, the girls had wanted him to stay "for drinks." They were attractive and young, and he would have accepted in a heartbeat were he literally anyone else, but as he was stuck being Dean Winchester, he had to decline. They had countered his rejection by taking off their clothes and saying they were going to go try out their new jacuzzi, and he was welcome to join in if he changed his mind.

He hightailed it out of there as fast as he could, before they could add to the deal.

An hour later, after he had returned to the motel with a six pack and settled himself on the cold floor of the bathtub, he fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, and dialed the only number he had memorized.

"Hey, Dean," Sam picked up on the second ring, and at the sound of his voice, Dean felt his face start to prickle. "Been waiting for you to call."

They kept to the usual topics- Dean's jobs, and Sam's summer vacation. He could tell by the way he talked about his school that he was itching to head back to Stanford. Dean had been to California a few times, but never in that area. He fantasized what it might be like to visit Sam there, even if he knew he never would.

"Well?" Sam asked, and Dean knew he had missed something, too distracted by his bright fingertips as he played with a loose string on his shirt.

"Sorry, say that again."

Ignoring the sigh on the other line, Dean listened to his brother's question.

"I said Dad wants to see you," Sam repeated. "Just a small visit. He misses you, Dean."

"What did you tell him?" Dean immediately asked. He should have known Sam wouldn't have kept their talks to himself.

"Nothing big," Sam assured him. "Just that you were safe, and I had seen you."

Dean wanted to be frustrated at his brother for telling their Dad even that much, but he couldn't be. He knew how much John must worry about him, especially after what happened to their Mom, how Dean had just left... Sam visited when he could, but he would be going back to college soon, and his Dad would be on his own again. The guilt ate up at him from the inside. He couldn't help but blame himself for John being all alone.

"Are you sure he wants to see me?" Dean muttered after a short pause trying to sound indifferent, but it came out with his insecurity.

"Of course he does," Sam replied. "Dean, you know he doesn't blame you, right? He knows it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah," Dean said, wanting to drop the topic. "Yeah, alright. Look, I'll think about it, okay?"

That was enough for Sam. After a bit more conversation, mostly to put that last topic behind them, Sam said he was heading out soon, and Dean said he needed to shower.

When he got out of the tub, he paused in front of the mirror; he hadn't even realized he had stopped glowing. With a frown, he turned from his reflection and stripped off his shirt, hoping a shower would help clear his head and ease some of the guilt knotting in his stomach.

* * *

Something kept coming up. That was his excuse not to head down to Lawrence every time Sam checked in with him. They both knew it was not accidental; Dean would take up any last minute job if it meant he could delay seeing John.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see him; Dean missed his father almost as much as he had missed Sam before the phone calls. He wanted to see john, wanted to talk to him, to hear what was going on with him, but he couldn't ignore the stigma between them. Just as he knew his dad missed him, Dean could also sense the impending argument.

Because Dean hadn't just walked out on Sam, after all. And then there was the not-so-little ball of guilt in his stomach every time he thought about home, about his mother. John didn't have to blame him, Dean put plenty of blame on himself for the both of them.

Mary Winchester was the epitome of what a mother was supposed to be; caring and protective, beautiful and smart. She never never let a night pass without a bedtime story, and always baked homemade pie on the weekend, with Dean there to help stir and maybe sneak some filling when her back was turned. Not that it was ever necessary, as she always let him lick the spoon after.

Dean had loved her. As it wasn't safe for him to go to public school, she had quit her job and home-schooled him. It was harder for Dean to control his emotions back then, but with warm apple pie in his stomach, and his mother's praise always on hand, he had never felt the need to suppress his glow. And his mother always smiled so brightly at him when she saw how happy he was.

Perhaps if he was more careful, she would still be here. But she wasn't, and now there were no more homemade pies, no more bright smiles, no more thinking that it was safe to be happy.

Almost a month after their talk, Dean finally conceded to heading to Lawrence. Even he knew he had been putting it off too long, and couldn't bear to have another talk with Sam where he explained the excuse-of-the-week, and listened to his brother's disappointed sigh on the other end. It was time to bite the bullet. He hopped in his Impala, and pulled onto the highway, and if he decided to go the speed limit on the way, it was just because he wanted to be a safe driver.

They had agreed on meeting at the old cabin near the lake where they used to go fishing. It was a good spot because they owned it, making the area private land. It was also secluded, and surrounded by trees, and therefore safe for Dean to run around and be a kid with no reservations. They were so happy then, and he had loved it here.

But now, when he pulled up to the desolate wooden house, he felt nothing but resentment for it. It was nothing but a painful reminder of the life he used to have, but could never have again. He had once felt safe here, had let himself think that he was untouchable. That confidence had led to his mother's death, and he blamed safe havens like this for letting him believe that.

John's black truck was already there, and he saw the curtain at the front window get pushed aside. The nerves started to kick in as he got out of his Impala, and walk heavily towards the door. He stood there for a brief second, debating whether or not to knock, before the decision was rendered moot, and it was opened wide.

Right there in front of him, tall and intimidating, stood his father; he looked exactly as he remembered, except maybe with some more scruff than he was used to. They stayed like that for a moment, quiet and assessing. Dean didn't know what to do, what to say, or even if he should do or say anything.

Then, without warning, John reached forward and pulled Dean in for a full body hug. He didn't know how to react for a moment- even back before Mary's death, John had never been the emotional type- but everything was different now. They had lost his mother. Dean had run away, taking the blame with him. If there was ever a time for a father-son moment, this was it, and Dean hugged him back.

When they broke apart, Dean could see his father was trying- and failing- to put on a poker face, to hide what seeing Dean meant to him, and that more than the hug was what triggered it. The prickling sensation warmed his face, and before he could try and shut it down, John pulled him inside the cabin, away from the potential dangers of passing hunters or hikers.

Sam was standing in the living room, and gave Dean a short one-armed hug when he walked in, patting him on the back. Dean could tell how glad he was that he was here, that they were finally all together.

After a small awkward moment where they all stood in the living room and tried not to stare at each other, John broke the tension by offering Dean a beer, and he gladly accepted before sitting down. Thinking quickly, before they had time to lapse into another weird silence, Sam launched into a conversation about his plans for college next year, and Dean and John listened politely and gave their opinions and laughed at his jokes and it was so easy and normal, Dean almost forgot all of his anxiety about why he didn't want to come in the first place.

They talked for some time, Sam about his life in California, and John about his work. Then it was Dean's turn, and the nerves kicked up a few notches.

"I've been, uh," he started uncertainly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Just traveling, I guess. Try not to stay in the same place too long, you know?"

Silence followed his statement, and he took another swig of beer to have something to do.

"You didn't have to leave," John said, his voice quiet but firm.

And there it was, the conversation he didn't want to have.

"Yes," Dean said right back. "I did."

"You should have talked to us, Dean, that wasn't just your choice to make."

Dean did not back down from his father's gaze. He knew without a shadow of doubt that he made the right call in leaving. Did he wish there was any other option? Of course, but when it came to his family's safety, there wasn't. It had already been proven that being around Dean was dangerous, even fatal, and he had to put them above his own selfish wants.

"You know why I have to stay away, Dad-"

"No, I really don't," John said, and there was another pause. "It wasn't your fault, Dean-"

" _Don't_." Dean snapped. "Don't you sit there and tell me that it was some accident, some chance-"

"We're not saying that," Sam chimed in. "In wasn't an accident, but it wasn't your fault either. She was protecting you-"

"Exactly!" Dean fought to keep from yelling. "She was protecting me, they weren't after her. If it weren't for me, she'd still be alive. Mom would still be alive, and that's on _me_."

There was a short pause before John spoke up again.

"Mary wouldn't have wanted this for you."

The glass bottle of beer made a sharp sound when Dean put it on the coffee table perhaps a little harder than he had meant to, and he got up to leave the living room. This had been a mistake, he had known it, he never should have come here. He vaguely heard some protest from Sam, but it had stopped abruptly when John said to let him go.

He stormed outside before he realized he had left his jacket on the couch, and thus his phone and keys as well. Not ready to go back inside, he picked a direction at random and trekked off into the woods.

In was close to sunset, the trees making it even darker, but that had never been an obstacle for Dean. His eyes adjusted perfectly to the shadows of the woods. Time passed with no meaning as he pushed the argument into the back of his mind, making himself numb to it. Eventually he reached a clearing as the lake came into view, meaning he had just walked about three miles, taking the long way from the road.

Just ten feet away was where Mom had taught him and Sam how to skip stones, while Dad fished for their dinner.

Like a levee breaking, Dean's knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground and sobbed. It was his fault. Nothing anyone would ever say could change the facts. When Mary had died, Dean felt like he was broken; the weight of everything had hit him so hard, he couldn't cry or mourn her, all he could think about was getting as far away from Sam and Dad as he could. Maybe if he had done that sooner... but it was too late for her, and he could still protect the rest of his family.

He gripped his hair and tried to hold himself together, cause it felt like he was coming apart. His breaths were sharp and ragged, and his chest was on fire and he couldn't breathe. Everything they had told him in the cabin rang loudly in his head as his grief ripped through him. He had had the most amazing person in his life- a mother who loved and protected him, and it was his fault she was gone, not just from his life, but from Sam's, from John's... His father now had to live out the rest of his days without the love of his life, all because Dean had been reckless and selfish.

Some Angel he was.

Just as the thought manifested, he felt a sharp and sudden pain in his thigh, and he cried out in agony. When he looked down, he saw a dart sticking out of his leg, and he yanked it out, staring at it in confusion. Before he could register what was going on, he heard movement from somewhere to his left, and he turned towards it; with his enhanced vision, he saw a man standing behind some trees just outside of the clearing. The stranger raised his gun again, aiming it right at Dean.

With a jolt, he sprang to his feet and bolted into the woods.

He got about fifty yards before whatever he was shot with started to take effect- it didn't make his dizzy or tired; no, it was much, much worse. Dread coursed through him like cold water as he felt his face start to prickle.

No. No, there was _no_ way he could be glowing right now- there wasn't a trace of happiness in his entire being. What the hell did that guy dose him with? How did he know what Dean was? Either way, whatever he was hit with had forced him into a glow. Right here, in the middle of the secluded woods. Miles away from the safety of the cabin.

The realization struck him like a blow to the stomach, and he ran even faster. Because he wasn't just being chased- he was being hunted. This man knew he was Luministia, and if he was forcing Dean into a glow, that could only mean one thing.

It was a not-so-small blessing that was so fast, maybe even fast enough to get to the cabin, and jump in the Impala before this freak caught up to him. The drug was spreading quickly, and Dean could feel his skin buzzing with light. He hadn't shined this hard in years, and he knew he must look like a beacon in the dark of the woods. There would be no hiding, no concealing himself behind a tree or in a bush. There was no other option for him than to run, run as fast as he could, put as much distance between him and anyone out here that could-

The impact had knocked the wind out of him, and he fell hard onto his back. In his frantic fleeing, it was all he could do not to trip on a root, but the tree seemed to have just come out of no where. It took him longer than it should have to realize that what he had hit was much softer than a tree, and he sat bolt upright when he heard a low, pained groan.

His glow cast the man into a shifty, silvery light, and he watched in horror as the stranger sat up at looked at him with wide eyes and an audible gasp. He was dressed in a tan overcoat and dress shoes- definitely not a hiker- but what Dean really took in about his appearance was his eyes, so bright and blue. They just stared at each other, stupefied by the sudden collision, until Dean could hear running in the distance, and with a jolt, he snapped back to his senses.

With a quick motion, he jumped up and ran past the man on the dirt ground.

"Wait!" the stranger called out, and Dean wanted to jeer at him- as if he would just stop and let himself be violated because someone had asked him to stop running.

The forest floor flew under his feet as he passed over miles of hiking trails. His chest was tight with the need to catch his breath, and his legs were cramping from exertion, but he refused to slow down. The prospect that he might now have two men chasing him while he was glowing made him continue throwing one foot in front of the other until he could see the light from the cabin up ahead.

He threw the heavy wooden door open when he reached it, and collapsed once he was safely inside. Sam was at his side in an instant, and Dean tried to explain through his huffs of breath.

There was a hunter. He was coming. They had to book it, like, right the fuck now.

Sam had half-carried, half-dragged a fully glowing Dean to the Impala, grabbing the keys from Dean's jacket pocket and driving his brother out of the woods, John following close behind him in his truck.

His last thoughts before passing out were those of startled blue eyes, and the feeling that the hunter had, for some reason, stopped following him.

* * *

The wake of Dean's near attack had left the Winchesters exhausted and scared.

Hours after fleeing the cabin, Dean woke up on a lumpy motel bed, sore and achy. The brightness behind the drawn curtain told him it was early morning, and when he tried to sit up, his muscles protested. He must have made some sort of sound, because Sam sat up from the bed next to him and went to his side.

Sam handed him a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water, explaining that they were about fifty miles outside Lawrence, and John had gone out for breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

There was a sharp pain radiating from him thigh, and it took him a moment to remember the dart that had hit him, and the drug that had forced him to glow. He looked down at his hands, and was surprised to see his was still emitting a bit of faint light.

"Peachy," Dean replied.

A long awkward silence fell between the brothers, their last conversation hanging over them like a dense cloud. Before one of them could break it, though, the motel room door opened, and John walked through it with paper bags filled with cheap fast food. He glanced at Dean before he sat down in the chair next to his bed and started passing out the breakfast sandwiches.

His father and Sam both looked worse for the wear, their eyes bloodshot, and their movements sluggish; they must have stayed up all night watching him.

When the food was consumed, and the wrappers littered the bed, Dean began explaining what had happened after he left the cabin before someone could ask. He left out the parts where he remembered their life at the lake and broke down, and skipped right to the hunter, the dart, the chase. There was a brief pause where he considered telling them about the blue eyed man, but decided against it; he didn't see him as a threat.

After Dean's story, Sam filled him in on their end; they hightailed it out of there, and basically kept driving until they were out of gas. When they got to the motel, they had to wrap Dean in a blanket, because they couldn't stop his glowing. Dean had an amusing moment as he imagined what that scene must have looked like, them dragging in a wrapped body-shaped figure into a motel at night. They were lucky there were no passersby.

Silence followed Sam's story, before John cleared his throat. For a second, Dean feared he was going to try and continue yesterday's talk, and in a way, he did.

"Look's like I was wrong," John said solemnly, as the brothers stared at him. "I had thought you being on your own, going from place to place without help was dangerous. I thought you'd be safer here at home, but I was wrong."

The realization of what he was saying dawned on Dean, and he protested.

"Dad, no," Dean started. "This wasn't your fault- those freaks would have found me anywhere-"

"Except they didn't find you anywhere, they found you _here_ , with _us_ ," John interrupted angrily. "The cabin was supposed to be safe, but you were there for all of an hour before someone made you." There was a heavy pause before John continued. "I want you to be safe, Dean. I thought- I had _hoped_ \- here with us was best for you, but now I'm starting to think you were better off on your own."

Dean could only look at him for a moment. He couldn't deny what John was saying; it was true that it was both easier and safer for everyone with Dean keeping his distance. It wasn't that he wanted to leave- more than anything, he wished he could stay- but John was right, it wasn't safe, not for them and not for Dean. He had to keep moving, he had to go where he wouldn't see someone he loved and accidentally trigger a glow. He was sure that was what had caused the trouble- when Dean saw John at the cabin, he had slipped. The hunter must have been near by, and saw him.

Thankfully, Sam changed the subject to something he had seen on TV, and they talked and joked, and for a moment, they could pretend that this wasn't the last they'd see of each other for a while.

They stayed as long as it took for Dean's glow to fully extinguish. There were hugs and promises to call and check in with them, and John made Dean swear to save up his own damn money, he needed more than they did. With a wave from the Impala, Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot, and drove out of Kansas.

* * *

He couldn't believe his luck.

His car had gotten a flat, and caused him to have to trek down a small dirt road off the highway. As if he weren't already having a bad day, let's add the dangers of walking off alone in the middle of no where. Each step was uncomfortable, his dress shoes simply not made for this kind of terrain, but he had no choice; it was either walk to where he had some reception on his cell phone, or be a sitting duck.

He had made it about half a mile when he heard it- a sharp cry of pain off in the distance. Someone was injured, and without thinking, he ran straight into the think of the woods towards it. Stumbling and tripping on roots, he had barely managed to get a decent pace in the dark; he couldn't see the trees until they were right in front of him, only visible by the traces of moonlight from overhead. He could hardly tell what direction he was going in anymore; maybe he should call out to the injured person, see if they were near by and-

The collision had caught him off guard, as he passed a tree and crashed right into a very hard figure. Whatever it was was very tall and had been moving fast, and the impact had knocked him backwards.

With a grunt of pain, Castiel looked to see what had hit him. He heard himself gasp, and his eyes went wide as he took in the man sprawled out on the ground opposite him. Logically, he knew what he was looking at, but his brain just couldn't wrap around it- _a Luministia_ , here in the woods, glowing brighter than the full moon above them, and looking like he had just popped out of a myth.

His eyes gazed reverently as he took in the Luministia's face- he, too, was staring with wide eyes, though where as Castiel's were filled will awe and wonder, his were filled with fear. Just then, Castiel could make out the sound of distant foot steps rushing this way, and the beautiful man jumped up and bolted past him.

"Wait!" he yelled at the retreating light. He knew it was hopeless, knew the Luministia would not stop, but he couldn't keep himself from calling out to him. Within seconds, the bright figure was gone, casting the area around him back into the dark of the night.

Thinking quickly, he came to his senses and hid himself behind a tree, listening for the footsteps that had scared off the Luministia. Less than a minute later, another man trundled up the path, following the direction of the fleeing man. With quick movements, Castiel grabbed him by the shoulder, and knocked him to the ground, ripping his gun from him, and knocking him unconscious with it.

It didn't take a lot of guess work to make out that he was a hunter. The worse kind humanity had to offer. A rage built inside of him as he looked down at the inert man; he wanted to kill him, but he knew he couldn't, knew he didn't have it in him to end the life of a (currently) defenseless man. Instead, he stripped him of his weapons, and left him there, returning to the dirt road in time to see a black truck speeding away in the distance.

Castiel continued down the dirt road for another mile, until his phone beeped with a signal, and he called a tow truck.

As his car was repaired, all he could think about was the bright and beautiful creature from the woods. He hadn't seen a Luministia in years. Something dark twisted in his stomach when he thought about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time, the idea that some hunter would have claimed him. No, it couldn't be like that- Castiel wouldn't let it. He was going to find that Luministia himself. He was going to take him back with him.

He smiled at the thought of it as he paid the repair man, and got into his car. When he pulled onto the highway, following the direction of the black truck, he thought about the odds.

He couldn't believe his luck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: masturbation, self-lubrication, kidnap, use of a taser, mentions of implied kidnap and gang-rape, mentions of cannon minor character death, attempted rape/non-con (not between our babies)
> 
> There is a graphic attempted rape scene in his chapter, so heads up on that if it's your trigger. I really just wanna get the angst out of the way so we can get closer to Dean and Castiel having consensual and fun smut, you feel me? Also, there is some Dean giving himself affection in here, so yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all of your encouragement! This was really just supposed to be some short adorable fluff with some glow-in-the-dark smut, but the whole thing just kind of got away from me. I was writing it out, and then my inner muse was like,
> 
> "Hey, you know what would take even longer to write, and would make this story several chapters longer than you wanted? Back-story. Lots of details and back-story, just cram it all in there."  
> "But I didn't want-"  
> " _CRAM IT IN THERE_."
> 
> So yeah. I wasn't expecting this to get any attention, and much less any support. All of your comments made me wanna keep writing, and it was my day off today, so I took advantage. PLEASE DON'T THINK I WILL ALWAYS BE ABLE TO UPDATE THIS FAST, I don't wanna make you guys wait, but I'm usually too busy to type so much. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all like it, and bear with me while I try and figure out this plot thing.
> 
> UPDATE: So my awesome brain decided that it would rather stay up all night thinking about how it wanted this story to go instead of letting me sleep, and at 4am, it gave me a really awesome idea. I had to go back and edit one sentence in chapter two several hours after publishing it so that storyline could happen. To everyone who read it before then, you are going to read something in the future, and go, "Wait, that can't happen- _this_ happened in chapter 2..." To those people, I am so sorry. I would say what that sentence was, but it's too much foreshadowing, and I want it to be as big a surprise as possible to some people. BUT I AM SO SORRY. Carry on.

Despite all of the things that had happened, how different everything now was between the Winchesters, things went back to how they were within a month of Dean's departure. John stayed home and went to work, Sam returned to Stanford, and Dean continued his travels, picking up odd jobs along the way, and never staying in one spot for too long.

There were some differences, though. Once a week, every week, he placed a call to Sam and his father. He had to change out his phone every now and then, but if it meant contact with his family, Dean was more than willing to do it. Sure, last month had held a bad argument and a terrifying moment, but it had all worked out in the end, and the Winchesters were all the better for it.

He pulled into another motel on his last night in Iowa, where he had been a part time janitor at some independent pet store, and he was glad to be heading out, though the cash was pretty sweet. The warm shower did him a lot of good, and though he was tired from all of the driving, he was finding it hard to fall asleep.

There were a good handful of things that could help him when sleep avoided him; alcohol, late night TV, some combination of the two- but they weren't what he had in mind this time.

Dean was a healthy grown man with a healthy libido. He had urges and needs, even more than the average 24-year-old because of his virginity. Having to constantly suppress and deny himself physical pleasure every time there was an interest or an offer made him feel pent-up, and there was really only one way for him to safely unwind.

He had a whole system of safety measures. It was always better to take precaution, especially for him, and how much would it suck to get discovered for what he was while touching himself? So as to avoid such a fate, he went about with his pre-masturbatory routine; he double checked the curtains for any holes or gaps, and turned on all of the lights; he folded the comforter and placed it on the floor beside the bed before stripping completely and laying down in it, grabbing the other blanket from the mattress and throwing it over himself like a sleeping bag.

Setting himself on the floor behind the bed blocked him from view of the window, where as the lights ensured that he wouldn't stand out in the dark. But the blanket covering him- it had started out as a safety measure, but really, it was for his own enjoyment.

Deep arousal always made his skin thrum with light. Even now, with just the anticipation of what he was about to do make his skin itch with the urge to glow. Once he was completely concealed, he stopped holding back, and reveled in the pleasant sensation that was a Luministia's most notable feature. He looked down at himself and watched with wonder as his body lit up the darkness under the blanket.

He didn't know if it was some instinct that was instilled in all Luministia, or if it was just some weird kink of his, but Dean loved to watch himself glow in the dark, loved to see things covered in his light, especially when he did this. He took a few more moments to bask in his radiance, to enjoy the arousal singing in his veins and crawling on his skin before turning his full attention to his cock.

Dean's erection lay flat and heavy against his stomach, and he ghosted his fingertips over it, making him gasp lightly. Having no personal knowledge or experience, he could only guess, but he speculated that he was a bit more sensitive than most people at his age. With a few more feather light strokes, he teased himself until he couldn't stand it, and he reached down past his cock to between his legs to where he could already feel himself leaking.

Ever since puberty, whenever he got sexually excited, he produced some kind of slick from his entrance. It had surprised him when he found out not everyone did this- yet another thing he now knew that he could thank the internet for. Apparently, it was a trait reserved only for women and Luministia men, but it didn't bother him. Actually, he loved the feel of it, warm and slippery between his fingers, but the real pleasure came from using it on himself.

Biting his lip to keep back a moan, he placed his slick-drenched palm against his erection and gripped himself. At the first touch of the slick to his heated and bright cock, he felt an erotic tingling sensation, not unlike the kind he felt on his skin when he glowed, but far more pleasurable. Slowly, he started to move his fist up and down his length, gasping as the feeling of it grew with each movement.

While he worked himself over, his other hand took to teasing at his nipples, switching between light caresses and sharp pinches. Within moments, he was writhing on his make-shift bed, moaning from the pleasure his hands were bringing out of him.

The hand stroking him started to pump faster, twisting when it got to the tip, and Dean watched the head of his cock vanish and reappear in his wet fist. When he felt himself start to thrust up into his hand, he knew he was getting too close, and he reluctantly loosened his grip and slowed down; he wanted to draw this out, always finding the end result to be far more amazing when he built himself up longer.

He abandoned the assault on his nipples to reach down and grip himself at the base of his cock, pointing it up towards himself as the fingers on his other hand teased at the head. With his thumb, he gently worked into the slit at the tip, circling and pressing until he couldn't keep his sounds back anymore. His eyes went half-lidded as he groaned through his open mouth, and when he felt a rush of fresh slick drip from him, he reach down to catch some of it with his fingers.

There was a small smirk on his face at the anticipation before he pressed his slick-covered thumb back against the head of his cock, his other finger lightly massaging the sensitive underside as the sensation from his slick shot through him. He was moaning freely now, chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted, his skin brighter than it had been in what felt like forever. God, he loved the way this felt- there were few things he had ever experienced that felt as good as a natural glow, especially one this bright.

He looked down at himself, seeing the way his light reflected off of the blanket, the way his hands brought him so close to the edge, and he just _felt_. There were so few moments he had like this, where he could lay back and just enjoy himself.

Suddenly, his breath hitched, he felt his chest tighten, and he couldn't hold back anymore. Taking himself fully in his slicked fist again, he began to work himself fast and hard, his hips unable to keep from rocking up into it. He squirmed and he moaned and then finally, he threw his head back and his body spasmed as he came hard over his stomach.

And there was his reward.

It took him a moment to come back down from the high of his orgasm, but when he did, Dean smiled and took in the aftermath- no matter how many times he saw it, the sight of his come always amazed him. Just like his skin, it had a glow to it, the color opalescent and shimmery. He ran a finger over his abdomen, swiping some of it up and bringing it to his face. There were different colors in it when he moved his finger and it caught his glow, and after a little more admiration of the way it looked, he decided to appreciate it's taste.

Internet research had described the taste of semen as bitter and salty, and was said to be unpleasant. If that were true, then it must be another difference between the average male and a Luministia. Dean swirled his tongue around his finger, licking up every drop it held; it was hard to describe the taste of it as other than sweet. Once his finger was clean, he quickly reached down to get the rest of it before it had a chance to dry.

Why there was such information on the Luministia page on Wikipedia, Dean had no idea, but from it he learned that a Luministia's come was very good for the skin. It could even be used to treat rashes or infection, and it was rumored that women used to pay Luministia men to give them facials, because it reduced wrinkles and made them look younger. Dean had laughed so hard at that, his beer shot through his nose. But it did make him think- if only Luministia were allowed to live in peace, they could help so many people. Hell, Dean would gladly jerk off in a plastic cup if it meant someone didn't have to live with a life-long skin condition.

But he didn't want to dwell on things like that now. No, right now, he wanted to bask in his literal afterglow, as he cleaned his bright, shining stomach of his pretty, sparkly come.

* * *

He had been in good spirits when he went to the local bar a few days later. Passing through a small town in South Dakota, he thought he would treat himself to some socialization and drinks. It was your typical Saturday night bar scene, people crowding at the bar and around pool tables. He couldn't place his call to Sam until the nerd got back from the library, so he had some time to kill. He walked up to a table that had just ended a game, and after an hour, he had hustled more than two hundred dollars.

So it was turning out to be a good night.

Not wanting to push his luck or cause a drunken fight, he walked to the bar and ordered a beer. Tomorrow he would be heading to another town. Or maybe he would stick around here for a while- he had seen a help wanted sign in front of the local auto repair, and he knew a thing or two about being a mechanic; it would be good money doing something he enjoyed. Either way, the month wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be. Things were looking up. Everything was coming up Dean.

In his good mood, he hadn't noticed the man who joined him at the bar until he glanced at him.

"Please don't run," the man said, just as he had been about to sprint off towards the door.

Dean didn't know what kept him in place, kept him from knocking the tan coat-wearing stalker to the ground, and dashing to the safety of his Impala. Maybe it was the honest look in his desperate blue eyes, maybe it was the fear that this man knew what he was and could blow the whistle on him should he take off, turning one threat into a dozen. Either way, Dean stayed on his stool, keeping the stranger in his line of sight as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"What do you want?" Dean said, surprised that he was able to keep his voice even.

"I just want to talk," the man said. He gave a small glance to the couple standing on the other side of Dean, who were too busy making it to second base to be eavesdropping on them, but he continued in a whisper. "I know what you are."

Dean gripped his beer bottle harder.

"Do you, now," he said with a forced smirk. "And what does that have to do with you?"

"It's not safe here," the man continued, ignoring Dean's question. "The hunter from the woods has been tracking you as well, and he's close. Please, you have to come with me."

It took actual effort not to laugh out loud at the man suggestion. How stupid did he think Dean was? He wasn't some gullible kid who would run into a man's van if he was promised candy.

"I know you don't believe me-"

"Good, then you can fuck off," Dean said.

"Please," he begged. "Please, he's on his way, you can't stay here-"

"I don't plan to," Dean growled at him. He placed a large bill on the counter for the bartender, and started to stand when the stranger's hand gripped his shoulder.

"Wait-"

He reacted instinctively, elbowing behind him hard in the direction of the man's face, and breaking his hold so he could take off out of the bar. He headed straight for the lot behind the building where he had parked his beloved car. There was no question, now- he couldn't stay here. Now that he knew he was being tailed by someone- possibly two someones- this town was no longer a potential, albeit temporary, home.

It was a shame, he might have liked it here.

The car keys slid into the lock to open the door, but before he could twist them, a heavy hand suddenly grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth with a cloth. In his shock, Dean had unwittingly gasped, breathing in the thin fumes coming from the rag. Everything went black as Dean passed out.

* * *

Tracking the Luministia had not been an easy task, but Castiel had kept at it vigilantly, fueled by the idea that there was someone else out there who might also be chasing him. He couldn't give up and leave him to the mercy of a hunter.

He knew better than to get too close- he didn't want to scare him off. He had to wait for the right moment to approach him, had to plan what he would say to convince the man to come with him.

So far, he was coming up short.

The Luministia, it turned out, was rather smart. He was always on the move, and covered his tracks well. There were a few times when he had vanished from Castiel's sight, and he had only managed to relocate him with of a combination of luck, instinct, and license plate tracking.

It was back in Iowa, when the Luministia was hiding out in yet another cheap motel, with Castiel watching from the parking lot, that he saw him.

Even though he hadn't gotten a good look at him in the dark that night, there was no mistaking the hunter from the woods. On alert now and wary, Castiel watched the man approach the Luministia's car, and held his breath when he walked up to the motel door.

Then the hunter left. Just like that.

The next day, Castiel followed the Impala and it's driver North, stopping at another motel in South Dakota. He watched carefully from a distance, and sure enough, and hour later, the hunter reappeared. Castiel was out of time. It was now or never.

It had been a long shot, but he had to try talking to him. The gesture of warning and the offer for help had earned him a sharp blow to the jaw. Cursing, he watched as the Luministia ran from the bar, and with a scowl and a quick adjustment to his coat, he followed.

Castiel ran out to the parking lot, but did not see the man right away. Scanning the area carefully for where he might have disappeared to, he heard a gasp and a brief struggle from somewhere behind him. Following the sound around the corner behind the bar, he watched as his quarry was subdued by the hunter he had tried to warn him about. With his arm pulled around the man's shoulder, the Luministia looked like he might be just another one who had had too much to drink as he was dragged to an unmarked white van.

There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he watched the scene unfold. His options were few and far between; he could run after him, try and fight him off, but there was no doubt that he would be armed, where as Castiel was not; he could call out that the man was being kidnapped, but the hunter might reveal the Luministia's true identity to the crowd; the safest bet he had was to follow them, without tipping off the driver, and hope that he got there in time.

* * *

Dean was in that dazed state of not-awake-but-not-quite-asleep. His head was throbbing, and something kept moving him. He wanted it to go away, he wanted to fall asleep, he wanted to keep his shirt on.

Green eyes snapped open as Dean's last memories came back to him- the blue-eyed man, the chloroform, the kidnapping- and he looked around. Or, at least, he tried to.

He was lying face down on a large bed shirtless, with his hands bound together and fastened to a thick and sturdy slat in the headboard. The effect of the knock-out drug was fading, but was still making him dizzy and lightheaded. Panic coursed through him and he shifted up onto his elbows on the bed to try and undo the bindings with his teeth. The rope was an inch away from his mouth when something gripped his ankle and yanked him back down the bed.

Turning his head, he watched as a man came into view- except it wasn't the one he had been expecting. The hunter from the lake climbed onto the bed, and Dean flinched away from him.

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean growled at him. The hunter only chuckled condescendingly at him before straddling the back of Dean's thighs. His strength was starting to come back to him, and he lashed out by kicking his heels up hard into the man's back. There was a satisfying grunt of pain as his foot connected with his attacker, who quickly moved and flipped Dean onto his back before he could kick out again.

"Hey, now," the man chided. "None of that." The hunter resumed his position on his thighs, and Dean watched with contempt as he fished into his pocket and pulled out two capped syringes. His eyes widened at the sight of them, and hard as he could, he struggled fruitlessly against his bonds.

"Easy, now," his captor shushed him. "This is just something to help you relax." Placing one of the needles on the nightstand beside the bed, the hunter uncapped the other and aimed in at Dean's upper arm. There was a sharp, cold sensation as the needle penetrated his skin, and the fluid shot into him. The effect of it was instant, and he felt himself involuntarily go lax.

When he felt it safe to do so, the man rolled Dean back over onto his stomach without him being able to resist.

"There, that's better."

The weight of his captor returned to his legs, and Dean tried to move his- something, _anything_ , but his body continued to lay dormant and defenseless. He cringed when he felt rough hands flatten over his shoulder blades before running up and down his back.

"I know you're scared," he told Dean, sounding as if he were trying to comfort and soothe him while he continued molesting Dean's back. "But I'm not like the other hunters out there, I won't kill you. I don't wanna hurt you any more than I have to, any more than is necessary. Okay?"

This guy wasn't just evil, he was fucking crazy, Dean thought bitterly. He felt the bed shift as the man moved back and wrapped his fingers under the waistband of his jeans before pulling them down and off along with his boxers, leaving him fully exposed. When he resettled, he reached over him for the other syringe, and Dean whimpered, knowing what it must be.

The hunter only shushed him again before pinching a thick part of his thigh, and sticking the needle into the bunched skin. This one hurt a lot more than the muscle relaxant, and he hissed from the pain of it as the man rubbed firm circles over the injection site.

It took less than a minute for the effect of the drug to kick in, even with Dean doing everything he could to suppress it. The pins-and-needles sensation erupted all over his body, feeling artificial and stale compared to how it usually did, as his skin hummed with bright, silvery light.

" _So beautiful_ ," the man whispered, his voice thick with awe and amazement and his fingers traced over every inch of Dean he could reach. Dean felt like he was gonna throw up, his nausea growing with each touch.

The small click of a bottle opening caught his attention then, and he strained his ears to pick up on what might be coming next for him. When a hand placed a bottle of lube on the nightstand next to the used syringes, fresh fear ripped through him.

" _Please_ ," he begged, and he realized he was crying then. " _Please_ don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"Don't worry, Angel," the man crooned at him. "I'm gonna make this good for you, don't worry."

He choked out a sob when he felt the first finger slide in, wet and cold against his warm and radiant skin. It didn't hurt so much as it made him feel sick when the hunter pumped it in and out of his paralyzed body. As he wasn't aroused, he wouldn't be able to produce his own slick, and the lube being used on him felt so different from his own natural lubricant- everything about this felt so unnatural, and he hated it. The movements were slow, the cruel man being gentle with him for the time being, and soon, another finger was pushed into him, working him open for the horrific act that was to come.

Tears streamed freely down Dean's face and his body shook around stuttered breaths. Dean had never been the romantic type, never believed his first time would be with someone who swept him off his feet, someone who would understand what he was and would want _him_ , not his powers, not just any Luministia.

He never imagined much about his first time, never really believed he would even have one, but when he did, it was gentle and perfect and with a lover. Not a rapist. He would rather die a 150-year-old virgin than experience what was happening to him.

The insertion of the third finger forced him out of his thoughts, the stretch of his rim painful now. After a few more movements, the hand was removed, and the body left the bed, and for the smallest moment, he thought it might be over. He didn't have long to hope, however, before he heard the ruffling of clothing being removed.

"I can't wait anymore," the man said breathlessly. "I have to have you _now_."

Dean trembled as the man climbed back onto the bed and settled between his knees, spreading his legs farther apart. Rough hands gripped his ass cheeks hard and pulled them open. This was it. Dean shut his eyes tight and buried his face into the pillow, gritting his teeth as he tried to block out everything around him. He tried to concentrate on a happy thought for distraction, a memory that he could focus on until the moment was over, but nothing was coming to him. Memories of his mother were tainted by guilt, while thoughts of Sam and his father made Dean feel bitter for making him ever go to the cabin in the first place.

There was nothing. It was like being empty, not having a single happy moment that he could recall on when he so desperately need one.

He held his breath and grit his teeth as he felt the head of the man's cock nudge his slick and stretched hole. Every inch of his body froze in anticipation for the inevitable penetration.

The pressure against his entrance grew as his rapist leaned forward, and then, with a loud grunt, he suddenly spasmed as a sharp, crackling noise rent the air. The hunter fell on his face beside Dean before he rolled off of the bed.

Confusion over took his gripping fear as he looked over his shoulder at where the hunter disappeared. Sudden movement from behind him caught his eye and he struggled to turn towards it before he froze again.

His glow reflected off of the blue-eyed man's body, standing beside the bed as he looked down at Dean's helpless form, and it was all Dean could do to stare up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He knew better by now than to let himself hope, knew better than to entertain the thought that his attack was over, that this other man might want to save him, and not want to commit the horrific act himself. He knew better than that, but still...

They stayed like that for a fleeting moment, each just staring at the other, before the stranger seemed to come to his senses.

"I'm sorry," he said as he stepped closer to Dean. "But I have to do this."

Dean watched as he reached towards him with a small black device, and terror shot through him as with a whimper, he tried to squirm away from the taser. Electricity jolted through him, making him he spasm until everything went black and he welcomed unconsciousness.

* * *

Dean did not want to move. The whole world was soft and warm and safe. He felt too heavy and too light at the same time, like he could float away if only someone would untether him. Sleep still tugged defiantly at his brain, despite the feeling that he had been unconscious for a long time. He sighed softly, and shifted where he laid.

Without opening his eyes, he could tell he was glowing faintly, his skin warm and humming pleasantly with light, and something at the back of his mind was insisting he stop it immediately, but he felt so warm, and he was so tired, and this bed was so soft-

With a small sound, he forced his eyes to open and focus- because Dean was in a bed. A big, soft, not-in-a-motel, bed. But what...?

Suddenly, the last twenty-four hours came back to him in a whirlwind of panic and fear, and he sat bolt-upright. The fast movement cause his vision to go temporarily hazy with the sudden blood rush, and he pressed his hand to his forehead with a groan, going still for a moment until his sight came back to him. With a few blinks, the room came into focus and he glanced around.

With a start, he realized he wasn't alone. The blue-eyed stranger sat in a chair next to the bed, watching him warily a few feet away. His brain screamed at his body to jump into action, to search for a weapon, to get up and run the hell away, but he couldn't move for fear. It was made even worse by the fact that he was still glowing, not as brightly as before- and it had dimmed considerably since he had woken up- but there was still a faint shimmer to his skin just enough to be noticeable.

He watched with trepidation as the blue-eyed man started to lean towards him.

"Stay the hell away from me," Dean whispered, trying to sound as threatening as he could while folding in on himself to make him look as small as possible.

The blue-eyed man sighed, and Dean thought he sounded tired.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you," he said, keeping sad and honest eyes on Dean, who just watched him with a frown. "I had tried to protect you from that- from _him_. I was so worried that I had gotten there too late." The man gave him a small barely-there smile. "But that's over- you're safe now."

" _Safe_?" Dean snapped? "I'm supposed to be _safe_ here? With the freak whose been stalking me for the past month, the guy who used a fucking stun-gun on me?"

Blues eyes darted to Dean's side, and he looked down. It was only then that he realized he was wearing clothes- not his own, these were loose and comfortable like pajamas, and when he shifted he could feel a bandage covering where there was surely a burn mark.

"That," the man said ruefully, not meeting Dean's resentful gaze. "Was unfortunate."

There was a small pause at that.

"'Unfortunate.'" Dean repeated with a deadpanned voice. "Really, that's what you're going with?"

"I had no choice-"

"Oh," Dean put his hands up in mock surrender, his voice radiating anger and barely disguised fear. "Well then that just makes it okay, doesn't it?"

There was another still moment as the blue-eyed man looked at him in consideration, assessing him, before he suddenly stood up. Dean sputtered and flinched at the movement, but instead of lunging towards him, or moving to strike Dean, he simply walked towards the door.

"Where are you...?" Dean started, but he lost his nerve and the sentence tapered out.

"It is clear to me that I will not be able to speak with you while you are like this," he said matter-of-factly. "You have just been through a great personal trauma, both emotionally and physically. I believe you will benefit from a second alone with your thoughts."

His hand started to twist the door nob, but he turned to face Dean before opening the door.

"I want you to know that you are not a prisoner here," he said. "You are free to leave at any moment should you choose to do so. I am confident that this is the safest place that you could be, but if you do not wish to stay, I will not make you. All I ask is that, before you leave, you come and speak with me. When you are ready, I will be downstairs with breakfast."

With that, the blue-eyed man turned and left the room, leaving Dean with his mouth hanging open as he closed the door.

* * *

It had been such a long night. What Castiel really wanted to do as he walked into the kitchen and scrambled some eggs, was go back upstairs to his master bedroom, and go to sleep. But while his body ached with exhaustion, his mind was alert and ecstatic. He had done it- after a long month of (he cringed at the word) stalking, he had finally brought the Luministia here.

It wasn't in the way he had hoped for, but he didn't have the patience to be upset about that now. There were a lot of ways last night could have gone, and though the reality of what had transpired was far from favorable, he knew personally that it could have been so much worse. Now, the Luministia was upstairs in his guest bedroom, safe and alive, and that was something to be grateful for.

He had almost gotten there too late. The white van had taken a sharp corner, and Castiel couldn't catch up to it before getting stuck at a stop light. There were several minutes of panic where he had thought he had lost them, but he followed his instinct, and took a chance turn down a secluded dirt road that lead to a small house far from anywhere. When he saw the white van in front, he had been so relieved, but his night was far from over.

Turned out he had gotten there just in time. When he opened the bedroom door and saw what was being done, a rage shot through him, and he may or may not had stunned the hunter a lot longer than was absolutely necessary. And then again before leaving, _just in case_.

The look of fear and desperation the Luministia had fixed him with was one that would stay with him for a long time. He hated that he had had to stun him too, but he just didn't see anyway he was going to be able to convince the bright man to come with him, especially not when he was so frightened, and stuck in a glow. Castiel was so careful with him when he undid his bindings, wrapped him in his overcoat, and carried him to his SUV, the tinted windows in the back guarding him from view of potential threats.

From there, he treated him- the bruises, and the burn mark from his taser, wrapping each injury as gently and quickly as he could. Castiel had witnessed for himself that Luministia healed much faster than the average human, that he didn't really need to treat and bandage his wounds, but he couldn't leave him like that. After he was finished, he laid him in the back seat, fastened a seat belt around his waist, and got them both out of there- time was an issue, and he wanted to be as far away from here as possible before the hunter woke up.

There was a hope, a small one, that the hunter would assume Castiel had taken the Luministia and claimed him for himself before his glow dimmed, and thus would stop hunting him, but he was taking no chances. His house was far in the mountains of Colorado, secluded and protected, the perfect safe haven for a Luministia, though it hadn't been used as such in years. It was here that he brought the radiant, beautiful man, still unconscious from all of the physical exertion that night.

The sky was just starting to turn brighter with sunrise still a few hours away when he laid the Luministia down in his guest bedroom. Castiel knew that he would be terrified when he woke up, knew that he would fear the man who had saved him, and he couldn't blame him; after spending so many years on the run, living his whole life afraid of being assaulted, of course he would be reluctant to trust- to believe- that someone wanted to help. He didn't know how he was going to convince him that he only wanted to do just that, but he would worry about that later. For now, the Luministia was asleep and peaceful, safe and warm.

Castiel had decided to stay in the room and watch over him, not wanting him to wake up alone not knowing where he was. God, he was so beautiful, he couldn't help but stare at him. Even without his glow, when Castiel had watched him from afar, he had thought him attractive, but like this- he knew it wasn't genuine, that it was an artificial glow caused by some drug, but he was so _bright_ , and the whole room was illuminated by his presence. It was a breathtaking sight.

Hours crept by, and sleep called to Castiel but he didn't leave. He had to wait. Sure enough, around ten in the morning, the Luministia stirred on the bed, and Castiel almost smiled at the sound of contentment he made before he awoke with a jolt.

As he had predicted, his rescue did not get the thank you it deserved, but he couldn't be upset. If anything, he was glad he wasn't attacked- Luministia were naturally strong by nature, and this one looked like he had some muscle on him. The drugs would have worn off by now, so it wasn't like he would have been too weak.

Castiel hated the way he looked at him, with resentment through swollen tear-stained eyes that had expected the worst from him. He could see his inner struggle, especially when the Luministia saw that he was still glowing, and he could only imagine how unsettling and unnatural it must have felt. There was so much the young man had to deal with, so much to think about.

So Castiel went downstairs and made eggs, giving him the offer, and leaving him to think about it. There was a tight ball in his chest that he identified as anxiety, and he hoped with all of his might that the Luministia would choose to stay. If he still did such things, he might have even prayed for it.

* * *

His mind was reeling. What had just happened? Did his kidnapper just offer him a safe haven? Was he supposed to be serious? There were so many conflicting thoughts in his head, he felt like it was going to explode.

Dean couldn't move. He stayed on the bed and tried to clear his head so he could think this through properly. Last night... that was surely a nightmare. But as he recalled, no permanent physical damage was done- he might be scarred mentally, but his virginity was still intact. And that stranger, the one who brought him here- he had been the one to stop it. He had rescued him.

Not that that meant anything if he was going to keep Dean here, and attack him later. But then a little voice of reason played devil's advocate- if the blue-eyed man was going to hurt him, why didn't he do it last night? Dean was unconscious, so it wasn't like he could have fought back, and he had already been forced into a glow... Even now, as Dean looked at his hands, he could still see a weak light. If he was going to be attacked, it would have already happened. Ergo, the blue-eyed man was not going to hurt him. He had even told Dean that he could leave if he wanted to.

But then why even bring him here? If the stranger wasn't interested in a Luministia's powers, why kidnap one and bring it to his house? Why follow one across states? Why risk his life saving one from a hunter?

Dean had questions, and he wanted answers. There was only one place he was going to get them, and it was sitting downstairs with breakfast.

He couldn't go down, though, not yet. Quietly as he could, he got up and tiptoed to the door, peaking out, and when he saw no one around, he inched over to the bathroom near by. Once inside, he closed and locked the door.

He almost didn't recognize himself when he looked into the mirror. He was paler than usual, his eyes slightly swollen from the crying, and everything about his expression showed how tired he felt. Turning on the tap, he splashed from water over his face, hoping it would make him feel more awake and alert.

If he was being honest, he didn't see the harm in talking to the guy, and he was pretty hungry. That's what he would do- eat and ask his questions, and once he got the answers he was looking for, he would leave. Years of distrusting strangers had caused him to develop certain habits, however; he was not naive, and he wouldn't simply take this guy at his word- just because he promised Dean's freedom, didn't mean he would be allowed to walk out of here with no conditions. Looking around the bathroom, he spotted a pair of scissors in a drawer, and he tucked them into his waistband; if Dean decided to leave, he was prepared to fight his way out. He was never going to experience a repeat of last night, he would make sure of that.

When his glow finally went out a few minutes later, he took a deep breath, and left the bathroom.

It was a pretty nice house. Even in his unease, Dean could appreciate the spaciousness and the easy decor. This was a place of comfort over looks, which he could respect, and though everything was clean, it had a very lived-in look. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he caught the smell of eggs and bacon, and he followed his nose through a few rooms until he found the breakfast sitting on a wooden dinning table.

The blue-eyed man could be heard moving around in the kitchen, until his footsteps grew louder and he appeared in the walkway between the rooms. He froze when he saw Dean, as if surprised to have seen him there so soon. Dean watched him with wariness- ready to take off at a moment's notice should he make any sudden moves- as the stranger set two mugs next to the plates. He seemed to sense Dean's unease, and he moved with slow and easy to predict motions.

"I hope you like coffee," he said clearly, as if kidnapping people and making them breakfast the next morning was perfectly normal for him. "But if you don't, I also have different teas, and orange juice and milk-"

"Um," Dean interrupted. "Coffee's fine."

The man nodded at him before taking a seat and offering a gesture for Dean to do the same. Apprehension in every movement, Dean pulled out a chair and took a seat behind a plateful of scrambled eggs. There were also five stripes of bacon, and a side plate of toast. At the sight of so much food, his stomach rumbled, and he was suddenly reminded that his last meal had been yesterday afternoon, and consisted of a cheap burger on-the-go.

There was an awkward pause while the blue-eyed man across the table stared at him, and for a moment, Dean thought he was about to ask him to say grace. Despite his hunger, he waited until his host took a bite himself before taking a forkful of egg. He had entertained the idea that his food and drink might have been tampered with, but he reasoned, as he took a large gulp of delicious black coffee, there would have really been no point in him knocking Dean out with poison if he had a perfectly effective taser on hand.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Questions upon questions lined themselves up in his head, each one wanting to be asked first, but he didn't know where to start. Luckily, the decision were made for him. With a sigh, the blue-eyed man sat up straight and looked at him.

"You must have many questions for me," he started. Dean just watched him, and waited for him to continue. "I will answer anything you ask."

Dean stood still for another moment, regarding and assessing him before he put his fork down.

"Alright," he said, and he started with the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm guessing you've been following me since I ran into you back in Kansas." The stranger stayed quiet, and Dean took that as confirmation. "Which means you've been stalking me for a month, and now you've kidnapped me. But you don't seem to be much interested in my, uh- _abilities_. So I guess... what do you want?"

The man stayed quiet for a moment, eyes eyes moving down in thought, before looking back at him as he answered.

"I want you to be safe," he said. "I know how dangerous and difficult it can be for Luministia out there, especially those who have been discovered, who are being hunted. I wanted to find you so that I could offer you a safe place to stay."

"And what, you couldn't just say that?"

"If you recall," the blue-eyed man responded with raised eyebrows. "I tried to, right before you were grabbed. You elbowed me in the face."

Oh, yeah.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you weren't another hunter?"

"There is no need to be defensive. I understand why you reacted the way you did, especially after what was happening to you when you first saw me."

Dean remembered it perfectly, that night at the lake; the tainted dart that had forced his glow, causing him to shine like a beacon in the darkness of the woods, the hunt that had made him run for his life until he nearly trampled the tan coat wearing stranger.

When the same man approached him at the bar, he had assumed the worst- another hunter, ready to take him, to claim him, to force him down and bend him over and grant himself 'worthy' of a Luministia's powers. But instead, here he was- making him breakfast. After saving him from a real hunter. And offering him a safe haven. And asking for nothing in return.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?" the blue-eyed man furrowed his eyebrows at him in confusion.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, and even though his stomach was twisting with uncertainty, his voice was steady. "Why are you helping me? You can't be doing it for nothing- you have to want more than just my safety. That can't be it. No one does everything you've done just to be nice."

The blue-eyed man went quiet for a long moment at that, and this time he kept his eyes down when he spoke.

"My brother was a Luministia."

Dean did not miss that past-tense of that statement. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but empathy wasn't it, and he stayed silent as he waited for the man to continue.

"His name was Samandriel. We were close," the blue-eyed man looked up at him then. "Would you like to see a picture of him?"

At Dean's small nod, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, retracting a small piece of paper from one of it's folds. He watched as the blue-eyed man smiled at it, and there was so much affection in that brief expression before he handed it over to Dean.

It was a small picture of two boys. The man sitting in front of him was easy to identify on the right, his mess of near black hair almost the exact same as it was now. He was smiling nervously in the old photo, as if camera shy.

The other boy in the picture was the exact opposite; he was grinning widely at the camera, mouth open in a permanent laugh, with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of his brother. Dean saw he had the same bright, blue eyes as the man in front of him, but it wasn't the most noticeable feature of the photo. It was the unmistakeable glow. The younger boy with the confident, laughing face was shining, bright and happy.

And suddenly, Dean understood.

"He was always so happy, even when he knew the risks, knew he had to live a sheltered life in case someone saw," he took the photograph back when Dean handed it to him. There was another pause as he stared at it, and Dean thought he saw something broken in his expression when he returned it back to his wallet. His voice was quiet but steady when he continued.

"I don't know what happened, not really. I knew there were hunters involved." Dean winced at the plural. "We were traveling, and they broke into our house in the middle of the night. I was knocked unconscious, and when I woke up... it was too late. He was gone." The man paused as he swallowed, and his voice grew angry, and bitter. "He was only fourteen."

A long silence followed as the blue-eyed man composed himself, and Dean stayed quiet out of respect. He imagined it had been a long time since the man had talked about this. Dean felt sick to his stomach at the story, and he tried not to think about what might have been done to the happy, glowing boy from the picture. When he had finished gathering himself, the blue-eyed man continued, looking Dean in the eyes.

"I'm not helping you just because I want to be nice," he said calmly. "I'm helping you because of my brother. I couldn't protect him, but maybe, if you'll let me, I can protect you, keep you safe. It's what he would have done, what he would have wanted me to do."

He didn't need anymore explanation, didn't need to ask for any proof. It was enough.

Dean believed him.

"Just one more question," Dean said.

"Of course, anything."

Dean gave him a small smile. "What's your name?"

The blue-eyed man returned his smile as he replied.

"My name is Castiel."

"Hey there, Cas," Dean said, offering his hand. "I'm Dean."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied, taking his hand in his own and shaking it.

They finished their breakfast quietly, and sure it was still a little awkward, and Dean had no idea how this was going to play out, or if was going to work. But for the first time in far too long- since a blonde haired, kind faced woman baked him pie and read him bedtime stories- he felt safe. He didn't have to run, and he wasn't being chased. If there was even the smallest possibility that he could have what he was being promised, it was worth a try, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dean's first day at Castiel's safe house. When he is left alone, he naturally starts to snoop through his host's things in hopes of learning more about Castiel. He ends up getting more information than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: mentions of minor canon character death, story-telling, fluffy moments
> 
> FOR THOSE WHO READ CHAPTER TWO RIGHT AFTER IT WAS POSTED: Okay, so after I first posted chapter two, I stayed up thinking about where I wanted to go with this story. Then, in the middle of the night, I got an awesome idea, but I had to go back and edit one sentence in chapter two in order for it to be possible. 
> 
> If you read the story before I edited it, you will come to a point in a future chapter and be very confused as to how it is possible. For those people, I am so, so sorry. I would tell you what that sentence was, but it's too obvious foreshadowing. This edit happened around 4am EST. I'M REALLY SORRY for those of you who will be confused in a few chapters. I hope you'll still like the story, despite my poor editing.

Dean's first night at Castiel's safe house was predictably unexpected.

After breakfast, Castiel gave him a small tour, pointing out some of the house's features, and giving him some additional information; they were located in the mountains of Colorado, five miles from the closet road, and thirty miles from the closest town. Despite how cut off they were from people, they were still on the grid in terms of cable and internet, both of which were fully accessible.

There were back up generators, rations for emergency food, even a panic room in the basement, complete with an escape route that led out to the lake; this house was, in layman's terms, safe.

But it wasn't the safety measures or extra features to the house that Dean found unusual, it was the amount of freedom he was given within in. In each room he showed, Castiel was sure to inform him he was allowed to do whatever he pleased there. There were no boundaries, no limits; if there was anything he wanted to do, he didn't need to ask. Coupled with the over-night sense of safety, the added promise of being able to live in peace and do as he wished was liberating.

After the tour was over, Castiel asked to be excused; he had not slept in sometime, and Dean could tell it was starting to get to him. Once he was by himself, Dean plopped down on the large, comfortable couch, the house phone in hand. When Castiel rescued him, his clothes had gotten left behind, along with the cell phone in his pocket. It was no big loss, being a disposable.

No, his real concern was his baby, and he exhaled a none-too-small sigh of relief when Castiel told him he had had his car towed, and would be taking him to collect it tomorrow morning.

Checking the clock, he figured now was a good a time as any- it was Sunday, so he knew he wasn't in class. The phone rang twice before a tired, distressed voice answered the call.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Dean, is that you?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me." He was a little surprised to hear his brother sound so worried, but he understood; every Saturday, after he was done studying in the library, Sam got a phone call from him- it was their deal if Dean was going to be off on his own. He had never missed their scheduled talks. Until yesterday.

Dean imagined his brother must have been up all night, wondering why he didn't hear from him, and as is often the case with worrying family members, the more hours that passed, the more conclusions they jumped to, each scenario in their head getting worse and worse until they were told otherwise that everything was okay.

"What the fuck, Dean?" Sam bit at him. "Where the hell have you been? Dad and I have been worried sick, we were calling all night."

"Calm down, I'm fine," Dean assured him. Under all of the anger and the promise of an ass-chewing if he didn't explain himself soon, Dean could hear the relief that was fueling it. His brother was worried, he knew he would be, but he couldn't help the little smile on his lips and the light prickling around his eyes that came from knowing he was so missed. "What are you doing? You sitting down? Good, cause I got a lot to tell you."

Without further delay, Dean explained everything, subtracting the 'you-don't-need-to-know-that' details: the hunter from the woods tracked him down and kidnapped him; he was rescued by a third party, a man who wanted to keep him safe; he was now staying in that man's house, and would, for the foreseeable future, be living there for a few days.

"And, yeah," he finished. "That's about it." Really, he had thought the explanation would have lasted longer, but it only took a few minutes to get everything out. "Cas is, well, he's not what I thought. I'm not saying I trust him, but I don't know, dude seems alright. And he wants to help, so... yeah, that's it."

Sam was silent on the other end long enough that Dean thought they had been disconnected.

"' _Yeah, that's it_?' Seriously, that's how you're ending all of that? 'Yeah, that's it?' Dean, you were almost rap-"

"Jeez, Sam, you don't have to say it." Dean interrupted with an indecent sound. "Look, I know, okay? It was close- way too close for comfort, but I'm alright now. So fret not little Sammy, my virtue is still intact."

He chuckled at Sam's 'you-did-not-just-say-that' groan, though laughing was the last thing he felt like doing when he thought about last night. There was a sudden need to change the subject, and he was glad when Sam provided him with a question that allowed him to do just that.

"So this... you said his name was 'Castiel?'" Sam asked. "What's he like? Why does he want you there? Did he say that he wanted anything?"

"No," Dean assured him. "I asked him about that, it's more of a personal thing than any self-interest." He paused for a second, debating whether or not to tell Sam about Samandriel, before he decided no- Castiel's reasons were his own, and Dean shouldn't share them with his brother. "Trust me, Sam, no one is more suspicious of the people who want to be around me more than me. I vetted him, he checks out. First sign of anything shady, I'm gone."

There most have been something in his tone, because Sam let the subject drop. Afterwards, there was the matter of who would tell John, before they both decided Sam would be better at explaining it to him than Dean. Then it was just like their normal talks; Dean told him he was in Colorado, but he didn't really know where, and Sam talked about school.

Overall, it wasn't a bad conversation. He had been expecting more arguing.

By the time Sam said he was meeting some people and had to go, it was almost two in the afternoon. Castiel would probably be sleeping now, and it wasn't like Dean had anywhere to be. It was so weird, not having something he needed to do; whether it was some small job, or working on his car, or staying on the move, he was always doing something- now, all he had was free time, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

For a moment, he considered going back upstairs and taking a nap himself, but he had slept for so long last night and this morning that he wasn't tired now. And besides, he now had almost the whole house to himself. Nothing wrong with a little investigating; if he was going to be staying with a stranger, it might be beneficial to learn more about him. No place better to look than the guy's house.

Getting up from the couch, he decided to have another look around, a self-guided tour without a supervisor. It wasn't snooping if Castiel said he could do whatever he felt like, right? Well, now he felt like going through the guy's stuff. If there was something here that was off-limits, Castiel should have said so.

It was a nice house- Dean had to give him that- but it was lacking a personal touch. There was nothing sentimental to be found in any of the rooms, no pictures on the walls or on end tables, no birthday cards on display, nothing. The only thing that didn't look like it was an exact replica of Better Homes and Gardens was the sticky notes on the refrigerator. Dean smirked when he read one that said, ' _Impala, 10am._ '

The tables were bare, bookshelves were boring, drawers were empty or filled with random cable cords; there was nothing worth looking at here.

With that thought in mind, Dean went to the stairs; obviously, Castiel's room was off limits. Not because it was a place of privacy, but because that's where he was sleeping. But as his search of the downstairs area had yielded no satisfying results, he turned his attention upwards. There was no way a man could live all alone for years and not have some personal things hidden away somewhere that would tell Dean more about his character.

When he got to the landing at the top of the staircase, he passed by the room he was staying in and continued down the hall. There were only a few doors up here; one of them lead to a sun room that served as an office reading room. Dean went there first, creeping quietly passed the shut door where his host was sleeping.

The sun room was, unsurprisingly, bright, with an entire wall and most of the ceiling being window. The wall on the left was nothing but bookshelf from top to bottom, complete with a sliding ladder that reminded Dean of the library from Beauty and the Beast.

Dean scanned the numerous shelves, even taking a few books out to leaf through; they were all worn and well read, and most of them were fiction novels. Names like H.P. Lovecraft, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Kurt Vonnegut stood out to him. Well, that was something- Castiel was a fan of Harry Potter, among other things. Dean would have taken him for more of a non-fiction sort of guy.

He had learned something- looked like he was making progress.

There was also a desk and computer in the room, and after setting The Hitchhiker's Guide back on the book shelf, he turned to it. There weren't a lot of papers on the desk, just some more sticky notes with vague reminders from months back, and when the computer came on, he found it was password protected. After a few failed attempts at guessing the password, he was unable to get onto the computer, and he got up.

Careful to leave the room exactly as he found it, he quietly closed the door behind him on his way out.

The only doors left were a bathroom, a linen closet, and what Castiel had told him was another bedroom.

He let out a defeated sigh. Maybe Castiel really didn't have anything laying about that would tell Dean more about the man who had rescued him, and he should just wait and get to know the guy the old fashioned way- spending time with him and talking. Without much expectation, Dean opened the door to the extra bedroom.

Sunlight streamed into the room through heavy, tied back curtains, bright enough that he didn't need to turn on the light. The common theme seemed to be 'Things Teenage Boys Like;' there was a Star Wars poster on the wall, action figures on top of the book shelf, comic books on the actual shelves. It was the only room that looked like it had any sentimentality in it. Nothing in here seemed like it would belong to Castiel, though.

Then it dawned on him, the initial thought hitting fast, and the meaning slowly sinking in.

Oh. This must have been Samandriel's room.

There was a small conflicting feeling in Dean's stomach; going through Castiel's stuff when he pretty much had permission to was one thing- poking around the abandoned room of his dead little brother was another matter altogether. Would it be considered disrespectful? Would it make the guy angry? Castiel seemed like a nice enough guy- Dean wouldn't have stuck around this long if he didn't- but he didn't want to risk making the dude mad at him. He was, after all, giving Dean more than he ever had to. It would be a pretty shitty way to pay him back by breaking his trust.

Although, the other side of his mind thought, it's not like he ever asked for Castiel to trust him- he was grateful to him, there would be no point in denying that, but that didn't mean the guy should just trust him automatically. He didn't know anything about Dean- for all the good Samaritan knew, he could be robbing him blind while he slept.

And it wasn't like Castiel had told him not to go in here. Didn't he specifically say Dean could do whatever he pleased before he left him alone? What if Dean _pleased_ to poke around in this bedroom? If he had the vague permission to do so, surely Castiel couldn't be angry with him for doing it, right?

He was nitpicking, he knew; none of these reasons were valid excuses, and he doubted that argument would hold up if the man changed his mind and wanted to kick him out. But even if it did, it's not like Dean was planning on staying long-term anyway, just enough to get his bearings straight and go back to being under the radar.

Few days, tops.

Eventually, his curiosity beat out his moral reluctance, and he walked into the room.

The first drawer he opened in the nightstand reveled a few more comic books and some math homework- looked like Samandriel was home-schooled, too. Picking up the sheet of paper, Dean read over it; the corrections over the problems in pen looked like they were done by someone older. In his mind's eye, he saw a parent, but the more he read over them, the more he thought the corrections were more likely done by Castiel.

The dresser drawers held nothing but clothes, so he moved on to the desk. A large shelf over the old-looking computer had a few text books and folders. Dean slid one of the folders down, a green one with the word 'Europe' written over the front in large letters. When he opened it, he found pictures of popular cities; London, Paris, Rome, and many others. There were several maps of European countries, each one marked with sharpies of different colors. Places were circled, and lines were drawn connecting them, with words scribbled next to it depicting tourist attractions in that area.

The next folders Dean took down were similar, with one for South America, and Asia. The purple folder labeled America had the most writing in it, and the map had a few x's crossed over some cities.

So Samandriel had wanted to travel the world. The thought made Dean smile before something stirred in his memory.

" _We were traveling, and they broke into our house_."

Was Castiel helping his little brother accomplish his goals when the boy was kidnapped? If Samandriel was taken under Castiel's watch, after he took him out of the safety of their home... did Castiel blame himself?

Perhaps the more accurate question would be 'how much did Castiel blame himself?'

Dean's eyebrows furrowed at the thought, and he put the folders back where he found them.

Getting up from the desk, he turned towards the closet. There were some old t-shirts hanging up, and some worn shoes on the floor under them, but Dean's attention was drawn to the shelf at the top. The one with the boxes. Most were small, a few shoe boxes, and a slightly larger one.

Jackpot.

Carefully, Dean took them down one by one and placed them on the bed.

He sat in the middle of the mattress and pulled the first box towards him. Inside were pictures, mostly of places and without any people in them. Dean recognized the Golden Gate Bridge, Mount Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, even the world's largest ball of twine.

The only photographs that had people in them were some candid shots of a younger Castiel, and ones with the two brothers together in front of a landmark, likely taken by other tourists. Dean had to acknowledge Samandriel's control; in each picture, he was smiling wide, and laughing happily, but in none of the pictures was he glowing.

There wasn't a single picture of siblings or parents.

He paused each time he saw a picture of Castiel. There were ones of him sitting on a hotel bed reading or watching TV, ones of him driving, eating, looking around wherever they were visiting. He looked so young and- in the pictures where he didn't know he was the subject- happy. It made Dean chuckle a little bit to think Castiel was camera shy, but in all of the pictures where he was looking at the camera showed him looking awkward or nervous.

Each image had a description on the back, along with a date, and Dean read each one; most of these photographs were taken ten years ago.

Three of the shoe boxes were like this, just bundles and bundles of photographs, and Dean went through each one, reading the descriptions on the back, and admiring the scenes they presented. Dean was able to put small pieces of Castiel's life together this way; Samandriel was obviously the photographer, save for the pictures taken of the brothers together from far away.

Samandriel put all of this together, and Castiel allowed it to happen. His little brother wanted to travel the world, and after being home-schooled and stuck indoors all of his life himself, Dean could relate and understand the desire.

After seeing the house the first time, it was not big leap to picture Castiel coming from a lot of money. And with there being no pictures of other family members, Dean assumed it was just the two of them. Having a little brother himself, he could understand the weak spot Castiel undoubtedly had for Samandriel. If he presented his folders to his big brother, and told him about his dreams of seeing the world, how could he have told him no? If it were financially possible, shouldn't the idea be considered?

The last shoe box did not contain more pictures, as Dean had predicted. Instead, it was filled with letters in old envelopes, all handwritten, each one bearing the same name, 'Anna Milton.' Tentatively, Dean opened the first letter and read it. It was written by Samandriel, talking about his and Castiels' travels- all the places they had been, and all the things they had seen. Each one was signed, ' _Your brother, Samandriel._ '

A few of the letters had attached photographs. One of them showed the brothers standing in front of the Washington Monument, and on the back it read ' _C. Novak: 19-yrs S. Novak: 12-yrs We saw the Smithsonian, it was pretty amazing! Wish you could have been there.'_

None of the letters in the box were replies.

So Castiel had a sister out there somewhere, possibly more siblings; Samandriel's letters had asked questions about a few different people, asking how they were doing, if they were okay.

A picture was starting to form in Dean's head; one of a teenaged Castiel taking care of his little brother alone- his little brother who was a Luministia that grew up sheltered, and dreamed of the world outside his bedroom; one of Castiel doing everything he could to make Samandriel happy, while still keeping him safe; one of Castiel losing everything, because maybe he had made Samandriel too happy, and the boy had slipped.

One where Castiel was now alone.

Well, Dean thought as he turned to the final box, it had worked; he had learned more about Castiel going through this room than he had searching the rest of the house. He was getting what he wanted, and it didn't sit right in his stomach.

The last box was a little larger than the shoe boxes, and he pulled it in front of his lap, grabbing the side flaps and opening them.

"Nothing on TV, I take it?"

Dean flinched so hard, he nearly knocked the box over, the sudden voice from the door almost making him yelp from surprise- _almost_. He stared wide-eyed, mouth agape, at Castiel's form standing in the open doorway. No words, not even sounds, were making their way through his open mouth at first, and it felt like his brain had short-circuited.

"Uh- I, um..." Dean said intelligently. He glanced around at the situation, at all of the open boxes of Castiel's private personal life spread out over the bed, with Dean sitting right in the middle of it, shamelessly digging through them. There were no excuses. He had no idea how he was going to talk his way out of this one. Should he say he was sorry? _Was_ he sorry? Would Castiel be angry? Was he going to kick Dean out now? What the hell was he thinking, not listening for the door? How long was he even in here?

He snapped out of his little inner tirade when he hear a soft chuckle coming from the door, and he looked up. Relief flooded through him when he was Castiel was lightly smirking.

"It's fine," Castiel said. "I don't blame your curiosity. I'd look around myself, if I were in your position."

Castiel walked over to the bed and sat down diagonally across from Dean, facing him. Automatically, his hand went for the first shoebox Dean had opened. His smile turned nostalgic, and maybe a little sad, as he flipped through some of the pictures.

A few moments of silence passed, and Dean felt he really ought to say something.

"I, uh..." he started, keeping his eyes on the only box he hadn't snooped through. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" gone through your shit? Invaded your privacy after you saved my life? Trespassed on the memory of your late brother by taking out all of the things you had hidden away, and forced you to look at them again? "I mean-"

"I said it's fine, Dean," Castiel said, and Dean met his eyes to see if he was telling the truth. "If I were absolutely against the idea of you looking around, I would have asked you to stay in your room, or better yet, not invited you into my home." He looked down at the picture in his hands and smiled at it. "If anything, I should thank you; I haven't seen these in a very long time."

Dean watched Castiel look through the old photographs for a long while. A quick glance to his watch told him that he had been in here for almost three hours; he didn't know where the time went, or better yet, how he hadn't noticed so much of it had passed.

The box in front of him had only one flap open, and he so badly wanted to know it's contents; it was on the heavy side for it's size, and when he had moved it, he could hear several objects shifting around inside. He was more than a little curious, but he didn't want to push his luck and sift through it, not after he had already been caught going through the other boxes.

He was content to sit there and wait for his host to dismiss him from the room. If Castiel really wasn't mad at his invasion, and wanted to keep helping him despite it, he would consider himself grateful.

When Castiel eyed the box of letters, he frowned at it, his eyebrows drawing together. The sight of them seemed to upset him, but he picked the box up anyway and opened the top letter.

"You read these, I'm guessing?" Castiel asked while glaring at the name on the envelope.

There was no point in lying at this stage.

"Yeah," Dean answered softly. He could tell by Castiel's reaction to them that they were a sensitive matter, but damn it, he had never been so curious about someone else's life before. "Could I ask- who was Anna?"

Castiel didn't answer right away, and Dean thought it best not to talk anymore.

"Anna is my sister." Castiel told him quietly. "We used to be close when we were younger, but we... we grew apart after Samandriel was born. She married a while back, and has moved since we last spoke, I don't even know where she is now. I didn't have the heart to tell my brother she changed her address."

There was a faint bitterness in his voice, and the urge to know more details threatened to make Dean ask about it, but he needed to reel himself in; this was obviously not something Castiel wanted to talk about, and while he had had no problem going through the man's life when he was unaware, he was not so rude that he would draw Castiel's attention to the things he wanted to forget.

Instead, he moved the topic away from his mysterious sister and the letters, and steered it towards something Castiel might enjoy to talk about.

"You guys saw a lot of places," Dean said, nodding towards the box of pictures. "I gotta say, I've driven all over the country, and even I haven't seen the Grand Canyon."

Something soft fluttered in Dean's chest when he saw Castiel smile at the other shoebox, pulling the pictures closer, and abandoning the letters to his side.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, flipping through more photographs until he came to the one of the both of them standing in front of the canyon. "Samandriel was adamant about going. I used to read him a lot of adventure stories growing up, and he used to stay up all night planning his own adventures."

So the fiction novels were Samandriel's, too, or at least something he shared with him. Was there anything personal of Castiel's in this house that wasn't connected to his brother?

They lapsed into an easy silence, as Castiel went through the shoebox, laughing at some of the pictures while Dean leaned in to see which ones he was looking at. Sometimes Castiel would give him some background on what was going on in the picture at the time it was taken, or telling him a story of something that had happened that day. It was nice, just listening, watching the man reminisce.

At one point, Castiel must have noticed Dean glancing at the unopened box, and he nodded at it.

"It's alright," he said. "Really. Now that I'm seeing everything, I want to look through it myself. And I know you want to know what's in it."

No disagreement there, but he did have the decency to look a little sheepish when he started opening the flaps.

Inside the box were a bunch of loose objects, and, carefully, Dean withdrew some of them. The first thing he grabbed was an old Polaroid camera that Castiel reached out for, smiling fondly.

"Samandriel bought this at a pawn shop the first day we set out. Said it was the best thirty dollars he ever spent."

Dean smiled at the trivia before returning to the box. Next to come out was a heavy snow globe with a surfing snowman inside.

"That was from Key West," Castiel informed him. "He thought it was funny that Florida would sell beach-themed snow globes for winter."

That was how they carried on for several minutes- Dean would remove a souvenir from the box, and Castiel would provide commentary for it. The whole box was nothing but the objects Samandriel had obtained on their 'adventures,' and most of the stories were pretty funny. By the time the box was almost empty, Dean thought he knew Samandriel pretty well for having never met him.

Dean found himself really enjoying Castiel's stories, not just for the content, but for the way he told them. When Dean pulled something out, Castiel would start cracking up at the sight of it, and through his laughter, he would try to share what memory the item had brought up. Most of the stories were the 'you-had-to have-been-there' type, but the way Castiel reacted to them was contagious. He could tell it had been a long time since his host had laughed like this, and it was like he was a part of something special, watching Castiel remember these things.

They were both laughing in the wake of another story when Dean took out a porcelain figurine. It was of a male angel with large black wings about the size of his hand.

"Wow," Dean said. "This is beautiful, what-"

He stopped talking at the look on Castiel's face; his lips were thin, his eyebrows bunching together, and there was a lot of sadness in his eyes. Carefully, he took the small angel and stared at it for a few seconds.

"I had forgotten about this," he stated, and Dean felt he was doing a good job at keeping his voice even. "It was a birthday gift. Sammy said it reminded him of me when he saw it. Said I was his guardian angel."

Castiel smiled bitterly at the figurine.

"Some angel I turned out to be."

Without thinking, Dean reached forward and placed his hand on Castiel's knee.

"Don't say things like that," he told him. "I may not know the whole story, but from I can see here, Samandriel lived a good life with you. You did right by him."

Dean stalled at the look Castiel gave him, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude, like he wanted to believe what Dean was telling him, but he didn't quite accept it as truth. They stared at each other for a moment before Dean suddenly remembered that he was still touching him, and withdrew his hand with a small smile.

"In any case," he said to save face; just because he was awkward didn't make anything he said less true. "You were a pretty cool big brother."

They lapsed into another silence, and though it wasn't unsettling, it wasn't as comfortable as it was before. Castiel was went from staring at Dean to looking back at the angel in his hands, and Dean started to feel genuine guilt. This was his fault; why did he have to go snooping around and make Castiel relive such sad moments?

"Do you wanna stop?" Dean asked when the silence stretched too long. Again, Castiel didn't answer right away.

"No," he said with certainty. Castiel leaned over and gently placed the angel figurine on the end table beside the bed. "I would like to see what else is in the box. Please, keep going."

With a small pause, trying to see if Castiel was telling him the truth, Dean returned to the box. There were only a few more objects inside, and he sincerely hoped they were tied to happy memories.

Luckily, they were. The laughs were a little subdued at first, but by the time the box was empty, they were both genuinely smiling again. Dean was especially glad to see Castiel was in good spirits by the end of it; this could have gone a very different way when Dean was caught looking around in here, and again when they found the porcelain angel. Castiel could have gotten angry, or worse, immensely sad. Dean didn't want to be responsible for upsetting Castiel, not now that he knew how good of a guy he was.

"Thank you, Dean."

The words caught Dean off guard, and he couldn't help himself from immediately replying with-

"For what?" He also couldn't help the small blush that crept over his cheeks when he saw the open, honest look Castiel was giving him.

"It has been years since I've seen any of these things," Castiel explained, gesturing towards the bed. "I only come in here once a month, and that's just to dust, to keep the room clean."

Castiel looked around the room then.

"Ever since he was taken, I haven't been able to think about my little brother without becoming incredibly sad, and over the years, I had forgotten all of this. It is nice to be able to remember Samandriel and all of the good times we had together and be able to laugh. More than nice, it's refreshing." He turned to look at Dean then. "So thank you. For reminding me. I get that that was not your original intention for coming in here," he added with a knowing look, and Dean looked down with another sheepish smile. "But nonetheless, I am grateful that you did this."

With a last look around, Castiel stood up.

"I'm going to go make us something to eat. Would you mind...?"

"Yeah," Dean said, standing up himself. "Yeah, I'll put everything away."

Still smiling, Castiel turned to leave the room, but stalled as he passed the end table before picking up the angel figurine and walking out of the door.

Dean stood there for a moment, letting what he had just seen, and everything he had learned, sink in. As he carefully placed each sentimental item back into the box, he thought back to each of their stories before returning the box to it's original place in the closet. The shoe boxes of pictures and letters followed, and Dean was adamant about placing them precisely as he found them.

He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was almost seven o'clock. How had the time gone by so quickly?

His mind was reeling. It was true he had hoped searching this room would give him some answers to what the man who saved him was really like, but he had gotten so much more information than he had bartered for. Not that he was upset by any means; if anything, he was glad to have learned so much about Castiel in such a short amount of time. Now there were no doubts that he could trust him, no doubts that he was safe here staying with him.

But it felt uneven.

Dean now knew a large amount of personal things about Castiel, things that he might never have shared with Dean on his own, where as Castiel knew next to nothing about him. The only things the man knew about Dean were that he was a Luministia and drove a black Impala, and while one of those facts was personal information, neither of them he had shared willingly. It didn't sit well with him. Surely the man who had done so much for him, not the least of which was safe his life, deserved better than that.

An idea came to him then. It wasn't exactly something he wanted to do, and he doubted he would enjoy it, but it would make this whole situation a little closer to being fair.

With an odd sense of determination, coupled with the willpower not to talk himself out of it, he headed towards the kitchen where he could smell meat cooking.

Castiel was standing at the stove, flipping pre-packaged burgers when Dean found him, and he lingered in the walkway between the dining room and the kitchen, waiting for the man to sense his presence. With a quick look in his direction, Castiel addressed him.

"Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, would you mind setting the table?"

There was no shame in delaying, he told himself. It's not like he was in a hurry or anything, and besides, Castiel was busy. So Dean waited until he set the table. And for Castiel to bring in the dinner loaded plates. And for them to eat, because he _was_ rather hungry.

All too soon, the plates were empty, and their stomachs were satisfyingly full, and Dean couldn't see any more excuses to put it off. So when Castiel went to grab his plate to clear the table, Dean asked him to wait a second.

"Alright," he started, wiping his mouth with his napkin and keeping his eyes on the table. "I'm gonna suggest something here. Now, I get that you didn't take what I did in a bad way, which is a little weird because I went through your stuff, but hey, I'm not complaining. Still, I- I feel kind of bad-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted. "I already told you, it's-"

"-fine, yeah," Dean finished. "Yeah, I know. But I still feel like, I don't know, like it's uneven, or something. It's not like you can go through my shit, you know?"

Dean almost cringed; it all sounded so much better in his head.

"What I'm trying to say is- if there was anything you wanted to know about me, you can, you know, ask."

He glanced up to see if Castiel was following him.

"I'm not exactly the over-sharing type, but I figured, just this once, I can open the floor to any questions you might have. But only ten."

A short pause followed Dean's offer, and when he looked up, he saw Castiel watching him closely, almost studying him through squinted eyes.

"Ten questions," Castiel repeated.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Just ten."

Castiel hummed as he looked up in thought.

"Better make them good, then," he said. There was another stretch of silence before he asked. "Does this offer expire?"

"What?"

"Well, Castiel continued. "Say I don't ask all ten questions right now, say I only ask five- can I ask the other five questions at latter times?"

Dean thought about that for a second, but he didn't see how he could come to regret accepting that deal.

"Yeah, sure," he accepted. "They don't expire. Just make sure you say you wanna use one of your questions so I know."

"Do they have to be asked in the form of a question, or can I just ask you to tell me about something specific?"

"What is this, Jeopardy?" Dean asked with only a hint of frustration. "Whatever, just- if you wanna know about something, you can ask."

"Hmm..."

The longer Castiel sat there in thought, the more antsy Dean got with anticipation. He was almost starting to regret bringing this up, and practically sighed in relief when the blue-eyed man finally asked the first question.

"Alright," he started. "I guess the first thing I'm curious about is... Do you have any family?"

That was a fair first question. Not too personal or private, but still informative.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I have a dad back in Kansas, and a little brother, Sam. He's in college."

"And your mother?"

"Is that a separate question?"

It was an obvious dodge, but it got the point across; Dean did not want to discuss his mother. He was grateful when Castiel diverted from the subject.

"No," Castiel said, absentmindedly playing with his napkin while he thought of another question. "If it's not too personal... Why aren't you staying with your family?"

Dean chuckled lightly.

"You actually know that one," he answered, and smirking at the confused look Castiel gave him for it. "Because almost every time I'm with my family, I end up getting..." he searched a word that wasn't 'hunted.' "- _caught_. First time you saw me, I was visiting them at our cabin. Sometimes, when I'm around them, I uh- I slip. I'm not with them because it's not safe."

Not for Dean. Not for them.

"How many people know about you? I mean, that you're Luministia?"

"Just my family. And now you. Oh, and that... guy."

"I see," Castiel said. "Alright, just one more question, then I think I will call it a night."

Dean looked up at him and waited with bated breath for the last thing Castiel wanted to know about him. Blue eyes met his, and he held Dean's gaze.

"Will you stay?"

The inquiry gave Dean pause; he didn't really know how he should answer it.

"I don't wanna make any promises," he declared. "To be honest with you, I don't really know. It's nice here, and I like what you're offering, but..." He let out a humorless laugh. "It's not like I'm really in a position to move in, you know?"

"If you're worried about paying rent-"

"No," Dean shook his head, and waved his hand dismissively. "I mean, I know you get my situation, and it's not like I can't pull my own weight with chores and stuff, but- I just can't answer the question for long-term. I can't give you a time frame. I don't know if I'll wanna be here next month, or even next week."

He watched as Castiel looked down at the table, crestfallen.

"I see."

"But," Dean continued, and he tried not to think about the fluttering feeling he got in his chest when Castiel looked up at him hopefully. "You know, as of now- yeah. Yeah, I'll stay."

It wasn't much of an answer, but it was the only one he had. Luckily, it seemed to be enough for his host, who smiled at him before standing up.

"How many was that? Four?" Castiel asked as he picked up the plates. Dean got up himself and grabbed the glasses and napkins, following him into the kitchen. "So that leaves me with six questions. I will be using them." He added, looking at Dean over his shoulder as they set the dishes in the sink.

"Great," Dean said sarcastically. "I look forward it."

When Castiel made to grab the sponge, Dean took it from him.

"Hey, I got this," he told him. "You cooked."

"No, it's fine, you must be tired."

"I said I got this. Go back to bed."

Castiel backed away from the sink.

"Am I being shooed out of my own kitchen?" he asked with a laugh. He started to make his way towards the hall when he stopped in the doorway and turned to look at him.

"Thank you, Dean."

"It's just dishes," Dean said as he set the faucet to a warm temperature. "No big deal."

"I don't mean that. Just- thank you."

Dean turned around just in time to see Castiel's back retreating towards the living room.

When he returned later to the guest bedroom (he didn't feel comfortable calling it 'his room' yet.) he found some folded clothes and a bath towel laying on the dresser, next to a small bag of new toiletries. After a surprisingly relaxing shower, he got into bed, feeling miles different than he had the last time he had laid in it.

This time yesterday, he had woken up in a very different bed. Had it really only been twenty-four hours? It amazed Dean that so much could happen in such a short amount of time. In the span of a single day, he had gone from kidnapped, to rescued, to thinking he was being kept by another hunter, to having a safe haven. And now that he knew so much about his savior, he really did feel safe here.

Maybe he could entertain the idea of staying here.

Moments after falling asleep, his skin gave off a faint glow that he would immediately diminish when he woke up the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel get to know each other more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things of note. 
> 
> I just wanted to say how sorry I am that this update took so long. Between life and my DCBB, I've been shifting further and further away from this story. I have this horrible habit of thinking that if I lose interest, that others have, too. SO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING PATIENT AND FOR ENCOURAGING ME TO KEEP WRITING! Your comments of support are invaluable.
> 
> The original draft of this chapter did have the smut that I promised you, but it didn't look right to me. It looked almost forced, and thrown in there, and I wanted to build up to it more. So there isn't smut in this part, but I've broken it up so it will be in a later chapter instead. I think it reads better, but I still feel really guilty, and I hope you guys aren't too upset!
> 
> Special thanks to miss Ehryn who gave me support by the bucket full and pointed out some of my typos (the rest of which are mine). And thanks to Cobalt_wings for talking to me about my stories! I don't think I would be updating this right now if it wasn't for you guys' emails, so thank you!! 
> 
> If I take too long in updating, please feel free to tell me in your comments! It motivates me when I know there are people out there wanting to know what happens next. I promise the next chapter will have more things actually happen, now that we've got enough character back-story. And yes, there will be a little bit of smut to look forward to soon, you know, if that's your thing.

_It was dark._

_A sharp crackle of thunder sliced through the quiet, followed persistently by heavy rain. He opened his eyes as wide as they would go, but he might as well have been wearing a blindfold, the thick storm clouds keeping even the slightest trace of moonlight from entering the room. The comforter crinkled where he clutched it, pulling it up to his chin, before squeezing his eyes shut, and trying to shut out the void surrounding him._

_It was so dark. It was everywhere, swallowing him._

_That was when the shakes started._

_Rocking himself back and forth, he fought to remember what he was supposed to do when he felt the panic start. Dizziness and nausea settled in, making him feel sluggish, and he started his deep breathing, but not too loudly- the dark was big, anything could be there- what would happen if he was heard breathing?_

_Just over the patter of rain drops came a distant creak, followed by a few sudden footsteps, then silence. It was coming for him. It knew where he was, and it was coming, he knew it._

_Breathe. He was supposed to be focusing on his breathing. Try as he might, his 'slow deep breaths' were coming out short and ragged and much too loud for the black room._

_Another peal of thunder made him almost miss it. Knocking. The sudden noise came from his bedroom door. It was coming for him. He couldn't hide in the dark._

_Goosebumps erupted over his skin as the sensation of impending danger encompassed him. Scream. He needed to scream, he had to let someone know he needed help, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. His throat was too tight, vocal cords paralyzed with fear._

_Maybe that was for the best- any noise he made now would only let it know exactly where he was faster, and what if it found his family, too, because they had come to save him? In a last-ditch effort to protect himself, he pulled his blanket over his head and put his back to his bedroom door just as it creaked open._

_Dread shot through him like he had jumped in a lake of cold water. His chest felt tight, and his lungs burned before he realized he was holding his breath, waiting for it to find him in the dark. He grew more and more lightheaded- he was going to pass out. He didn't fight it as he heard footsteps approach his bed._

_"Cas?" a voice murmured beside him. It was lighter than he was expecting- softer, and laced with concern. A gentle and reassuring hand gripped his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, tugging the blanket down from over his head._

_Castiel opened his eyes to find the darkness was gone. His gaze automatically sought the bright blue eyes emanating from the face of the boy standing over him._

_"Cas, it's okay," the boy whispered, sitting next to Castiel on the bed, and pulling his shaking form into a hug. Warm fingers traced up and down his back until the tremors subsided, a soothing voice murmuring hushed words of comfort in his ear. Over the boy's shoulder, he could see his room, coated in a soft light. The darkness was no longer trying to swallow him. Slowly, his breathing returned to a normal pace._

_The abrupt sense of safety left him feeling dizzy, but in a completely different way than the darkness had. This time, he felt warm and relaxed, as opposed to faint. Knowing he would fall asleep if this continued much longer, Castiel eased back, but let the boy continue to hold his hands in both of his- he wasn't ready to let go, didn't want to lose the contact that made him safe again. When his breathing was back to normal, and the dizziness had faded away to awareness, he looked into the boy's face._

_He was young, only ten, sandy-brown hair almost reaching his eyes._

_"The power went out," the boy explained. "I just wanted to come check on you in case the storm woke you."_

_"Thank you," Castiel said. Had it been anyone else, he would be averting his eyes in embarrassment- a boy of his age should not be afraid of the dark- but he didn't need to do that here. He was safe here, from judgment as well as the void. "Thank you, Sammy."_

_Samandriel rolled his eyes at the nickname, but didn't correct him- he believed he had outgrown it, but Castiel didn't seem to agree. He was the only one still allowed to call him that._

_Another boom of thunder shook the room, but Castiel paid it no mind. Samandriel looked over to the wall with the window- the wall that usually radiated a dim light, but was now as dark as everything around them. The small plug-in light near Castiel's bed helped keep his fears at bay when the sun went down, and he was reluctant to admit just how much he relied on it._

_While Samandriel was still turned away, Castiel looked him over._

_He had his usual soft glow about him, skin shimmering but not bright enough to hurt his eyes. As usual, he was just bright enough to chase the dark away, no doubt encouraged by his need to comfort his older brother who so feared the absence of light- and if he was the only light around, then he knew where he needed to be. Samandriel had always been like this- he thrived on being needed, being helpful._

_When Castiel had first confessed, not just to him, but to anyone, his fear of the dark, how the nights were almost suffocating, he was so scared, his little brother did not laugh or mock him, but bought him the small plug-in light, disguised as an air-freshener to avoid suspicion. All these years later, nothing had changed- Samandriel was there when Castiel needed him, and not a moment too soon._

_Bright blue eyes turned back towards him._

_"I don't think the power is gonna be back on tonight," Samandriel told him. At that, Castiel did avert his eyes. He didn't know what he was going to do- he didn't want Samandriel to leave, casting him in darkness for the whole night, but didn't know how to ask him to stay._

_"Don't worry, Cas," Samandriel smiled at him when Castiel met his eyes, as if knowing what he was thinking. He pulled the blanket up as he slid onto the bed next to Castiel, who quickly shifted to make room for him. "I'll be your night-light."_

* * *

It took Castiel a few moments to fully wake up. His body felt heavy and relaxed, and his mind was still sluggish with sleep, so he indulged in his laziness and continued to lay in bed for a few minutes.

Rolling his head to the left, he caught sight of his alarm clock on the end table; it was only a quarter to seven. He was up earlier than usual, no doubt the events from the past few days throwing his sleep pattern off a bit.

As is often the case with laying awake in bed, Castiel let his mind drift around. He thought back to his dream; when he first woke up, he hadn't remembered, but now that he was thinking about it, the memory flooded back to him.

It had been a long time since he thought about that night so many years ago. Everything was so different back then; they lived in Illinois, their parents were still alive, and Samandriel didn't have to live in fear of his abilities.

Thinking about Samandriel had been a painful experience for the past eight years, even with pleasant memories like the one from his dream, but this morning, he thought back on him fondly. It was a very noticeable change, and he didn't have to think hard to figure out where it came from.

Yesterday had held so many surprises, every single one of them coming from the Luministia he had brought here just the night before last. When he first came downstairs, Castiel could see the distrust in him, the way he kept his distance. He was almost positive that telling him about Samandriel would help persuade him that he could be trusted, and sure enough, after Dean saw the picture, Castiel saw a noticeable difference in his expression. He had prepared himself for the fact that he was going to have to explain what had happened to his little brother, but it didn't make it any easier to talk about.

It had been worth it, however, when Dean started talking to him more comfortably. After breakfast, Dean had stood up and removed a pair of scissors from his waistband, smirking as he said, " _Well, looks like I won't be needing these_." It shouldn't have surprised Castiel that the man had armed himself in preparation to fight him off should something go wrong; the man had experienced a lot of close calls, after all.

Regardless, he knew after that that Dean, at the very least, felt comfortable enough in his home that he didn't need to be armed. Somehow, that wasn't enough, so when he gave Dean the tour of the house, Castiel was sure to let him know that he was free to do whatever he wanted. Even to himself, he knew he sounded almost desperate; he might as well have gotten on his knees and begged the Luministia to stay and make this his home, but he didn't care. If it meant Dean felt more comfortable, he would gladly forgo shame.

Despite how tired he was from the day before- with the chasing and rescuing of the Luministia- Castiel was only able to sleep for a few hours when he went upstairs for a nap. When he tossed and turned for too long, he gave up and decided to see what Dean had decided to do with his free time.

When he left his room, he heard what sounded like papers shuffling around down the hall. Curious, he followed the sound to Samandriel's old bedroom.

What he saw stilled him.

A part of him might have been expecting something like this. After all, one doesn't leave a stranger alone in their home unsupervised and expect them not to poke around their things.

It occurred to him that he should probably be angry that his privacy was being so completely violated, especially since Dean would have known about his brother and should have guessed what this room meant to him, but Castiel wasn't even upset. The only thing he felt was surprise, and even a little glad; if Dean was curious enough that he would go to such lengths to find out more about him, it had to be a good sign that he would stay a while, right? No one would make the attempt to learn more about their host if they didn't care just a little bit.

He didn't reveal his presence right away, wanting to observe the Luministia while he was unguarded. After a few moments, he spoke and let Dean know he had been caught.

Castiel wanted to laugh at the look of shock Dean had given him.

It surprised Castiel how easy it was for him to sit in that room and look through Samandriel's old things and tell his stories. Dean just seemed to bring it out of him somehow. And then, when they found the porcelain angel, what Dean had said to him... He doubted the man would ever know just how much of an impact those words had on him, when he considered himself a failure, unable to keep his own brother from harm. To hear this man- a Luministia, no less- tell him that he had been a good brother, that he had 'done right' by Samandriel, it was more than he could have asked for.

He rolled over in bed and looked across his room to his dresser, where the angel now sat in the middle.

Suddenly, it didn't hurt. Thinking about Samandriel, remembering all of the things they did together, talking about the fun they used to have, sharing those stories with Dean; it was unexpectedly easy. It even made him happy.

And to top the day off, Dean, trying to 'make things even' by offering to share some of his own personal life with him. It was so unexpected- really, Castiel wasn't expecting anything from Dean- all he wanted was to keep him safe. But now, he thought he was starting to like the Luministia's company, to actually want him around for more than just his safety.

And that was the biggest surprise out of everything.

There had been quite a bit of anticipation on his part when he first had the idea to bring Dean here; it wasn't exactly a secret that Castiel wasn't the best people person, and he feared what might happen if he and the Luministia did not get along. Fortunately, it seemed he worried for nothing.

True, it had only been one day, but he liked having Dean around, and he would go so far as to assume Dean didn't hate it here himself.

He glanced at the alarm clock again, this time finding it to read just past eight. How was it time moved so fast when he was contentedly lying in bed? Not that it mattered much; there was a lot to be done today, so he rolled out of bed and made his way to the shower.

Clean, dried, and dressed for the day, Castiel headed down the stairs and met the enticing smell of bacon. The scent lead him to the kitchen where his house guest was standing, flipping pancakes in front of the stove. Now that he was nearby, Castiel could hear him humming a tune that sounded nice, though he didn't recognize it.

A surreal feeling swept over him as he watched Dean, and he couldn't help but smile at how nice this was, waking up and coming downstairs to find a beautiful man making breakfast in his kitchen; he wouldn't object to having mornings like this more often. When he speculated that he had passed the amount of time that it was appropriate to stare at someone without their knowledge and not be considered creepy, he made his presence known.

"Good morning, Dean."

The man in question turned his head in Castiel's direction and offered him an easy smile.

"Hey, morning," he greeted. "Hope you don't mind, I kinda helped myself to your kitchen."

"It's not a problem," Castiel reassured him, moving to grab silverware to set on the table. "I already told you that you were free to anything you found in here."

With another smile, Dean turned his attention back to the pancakes while Castiel busied himself with setting the table, quietly, so that he could listen to Dean's humming.

Several minutes later, they were in the dining room, and Dean was placing three perfect pancakes onto each of their plates while Castiel poured their coffee.

"These look great, Dean," Castiel commented as he began cutting the stack. "Thank you."

"Actually," Dean said. "This is my 'thank you' to you."

Castiel looked up at him to see Dean looking almost self-conscious.

"You know," Dean shrugged. "With everything that was going on, it kind of got away from me. I don't think the weight of everything from the past few days really hit me until I woke up this morning and saw where I was. Gave me some perspective, you know? Anyway, I just thought I should thank you properly- for everything."

It was clear to Castiel that Dean didn't say things like this often- probably because he never had to- and it made it mean that much more to him.

"Well," Castiel said. "In that case, you're welcome."

"Also, I uh-" Dean hesitated. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about something. About what you asked me last night. About staying."

Castiel couldn't help his reaction, the way his eyebrows shot up, and his eyes went a little wide, his expression full of the hope that Dean had changed his mind and wanted to stay indefinitely.

"As I'm sure you've noticed," Dean continued, either ignoring Castiel's reaction or not noticing it. "I do a lot of traveling. I don't like staying in one place for too long- safer that way, I think. But I won't deny that it has its downsides. More than once, I've found myself in a bad spot, and in need of some place to lay low, get back off the radar, so to speak.

"I'm still not saying I can stay," Dean said. "But I was thinking about it, and it would be nice if, you know, I had a place I could fall back on, if shit hits the fan… wow, this sounded a lot less shitty in my head."

"Essentially," Castiel cut in. "What you're proposing is that after you eventually leave, you would still like to be able to return if things get bad and you need somewhere safe to hide. Is that about right?"

Dean stared at him for a second before nodding.

"Yeah, that's- basically it." He said. "But I'll understand if you say no."

"Why would you understand that?" Castiel asked. "It's not an unreasonable request given what I've already offered you and the precautions you need to take. I told you that this was a safe place, it makes perfect sense to want to return if you need to. I'm hoping you will. My doors will always be open to you, Dean."

He watched as the weight of his words sank in; Dean had a safe house, and could always return if he needed to. There was a slight drop in Dean's shoulders, a show of relief, and Castiel smiled at him.

"We should hurry and finish eating," Castiel said. "We still have to pick up your car, and the town is a pretty far drive from here."

The silence of the dining room was only broken by the scraping of forks and the drinking of coffee while Castiel thought back on the conversation. In all likelihood, Dean wasn't staying, but at least now Castiel knew he could still come back. Maybe he could ask Dean to keep in touch, to call him if he was in trouble, or offer to send him money when he needed it, even though he would likely turn it down. The possibility- even probability- that Dean would remain a constant in Castiel's future made him glad.

It wasn't perfect, not exactly what he had hoped for when he first made the choice to help Dean, but it was more than he had before. It was a promise. Castiel would be reliable and show Dean that he could be trusted to provide shelter when we was at his most vulnerable. It was a start.

They cleared the table, and Castiel claimed dish duty so that Dean could pick some clothes out of his closet. As he watched Dean leave the kitchen, a thought occurred to him that warmed him from the inside.

Samandriel would be proud.

* * *

The drive to the nearest town was about as long as it was beautiful.

Dean loved rural places like this; the lower the population, the lower the threat, and there were always plenty of honest jobs to work out in the country. But there in the passenger seat of Castiel's hybrid SUV, watching the scenery fly by as they wound their way down the mountain, the calm Dean felt had little to do with the lack of people or buildings.

It was unexpected, but Dean would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Castiel's company. They had known each other less than 72 hours, but after everything they've shared, Dean felt as comfortable around him as he did with Sam. This was definitely a first for him; no one outside of his immediate family knew about what he was. Castiel was honestly and truly Dean's first friend. He trusted him, and that wasn't a word he used lightly.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like all of it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt… natural. In any case, everything was going much better than either of them could have hoped, and there was nothing wrong with letting things be without asking the question of 'why?'

"There aren't many tourist attractions in this area, as you might imagine," Castiel told him as they turned onto the first paved road Dean had seen so far. "Not a lot of people come up this way. That's the main reason I moved out here in the first place."

"You moved here?" Dean asked. "Where did you live before?"

Castiel raised his eyebrows slightly, eyes still on the road, and Dean smirked to himself; he liked the way Castiel always looked a bit surprised when Dean asked him certain questions, like he was taken aback that Dean was curious and wanted to know more about him.

"My family is from Illinois," Castiel answered. "I grew up there- we all did, my siblings and I."

"Why'd you leave?" Dean wondered aloud before he could stop himself. He knew he was prying again, and he told himself he wasn't going to do that anymore. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Of course not," Castiel reassured him. "The short answer is, my parents passed away and someone needed to protect Samandriel. I figured the safest place to do that would be in the mountains."

Dean was itching to ask for the long version of the answer, but knew he was stepping into personal territory, and he needed to tap the brakes before he crossed a line.

"Good instincts you got there. Place feels pretty safe."

Castiel nodded with a slight smile, as if reading Dean's thought pattern, and was grateful that he had shown restraint. Dead relatives were not the best subject for small talk.

They made it the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, with Dean taking in all the town had to offer it's locals. As expected, there wasn't much; a barber shop, a pet store, a clothing warehouse, and a few diners in between. Soon enough, they pulled into the only auto shop Dean had seen.

When he saw the mechanic wave to them from the pen garage, he had a sudden thought- this was the kind of town where everyone knew each other. Should he stay in the car and let Castiel take care of everything? He didn't want to get in the way or provoke any unneeded questions. Before he could settle on a decision, Castiel turned to him, telling him to let him know if there was a problem with his car.

Couldn't do that from out here.

The garage was pretty sizable, and had that familiar gasoline and motor grease smell to it that Dean liked so much. Though Castiel didn't seem perturbed about his presence, Dean still kept a few feet away while he inquired about his Impala, and followed behind them as they were led to the yard in the back. The mechanic pointed in his baby's direction, but it wasn't necessary- Dean could have spotted her anywhere.

While the man went back inside to retrieve the paper work, Dean looked his car over; there wasn't a scratch out of place, and he felt a wave of relief. Somehow, the sight of his car grounded him. So much had changed for him in such a short amount of time, and to have something in his life remain a constant- even something as normal as a car- was like having a piece of home.

"Oh, Baby," Dean crooned as he patted the roof fondly. "Am I glad to see you."

From somewhere behind him, he heard Castiel give a soft laugh at his affections, and the sound made Dean smile.

Shortly after, the mechanic hurried towards them with the paperwork, and after confirmation of ownership, they were cleared to get baby out of there.

"Before we do," Castiel inquired once Dean had the keys back in his hand and the mechanic had returned once again to the office. "I thought we could go to a few stores while we're down here. I don't like making trips often, and I'm running low on groceries. If you don't mind, of course."

"'Course not," Dean replied. "Wouldn't mind a bit of sight seeing."

As painful as it was to turn from his car after having just reclaimed her, Dean followed Castiel back into the garage. A 'Help Wanted' poster caught his eye in the window on the way out as they headed up the street.

The first place they stopped at was a decent sized clothing store, and Dean raised his eyebrows questionably at Castiel.

"Well," Castiel reasoned. "You are going to need something to wear regardless, we might as well get you a few things."

"Cas," Dean could feel his face heating up. "You've done enough for me, you don't have to buy me a new wardrobe, too."

"Unless you plan on living in my pajamas or taking a portion of my closet with you when you leave, then yes, I do. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in something of yours that fit?"

Dean glanced down at his attire, at the smallish shirt, and the pants that were a bit too tight, and rested an inch above shoes that were a snug fit. Damn. But Castiel had already done so much, and how much did it even cost him do get his car towed all the way here to Colorado?

"I can't ask you to-"

"You're not asking, Dean, I'm offering. I'm getting you clothes with or without your consent, though it would be a lot easier for both of us if you tried them on first."

As if deciding the matter to be settled, Castiel turned on his heel and headed towards the sign in the back that read 'Men's' and Dean, unable to argue further, followed. No one had spoken to Dean like that in years, and a few hours later, when Dean's new wardrobe was bagged at the check out, he figured it wasn't so bad letting someone else call the shots for once.

* * *

"I gotta say," Dean stated as he took a seat across from his host. "This house is pretty awesome. Small town near by to have what you need, but still far enough away from everything else. You have a good place here."

After they got back from their shopping, Dean had helped Castiel put the groceries away before heading to the guest room to do the same with his new clothes. By the time he got back downstairs, Castiel was almost done making sandwiches for lunch. It was his suggestion to eat outside- if was such a nice day out, and Dean wanted to enjoy it.

During the tour of the house, Dean had seen a bit of the backyard, but he hadn't gone out there. Like the rest of the area, it was spacious and beautiful; there was a large overgrown garden filled with multi-colored flowers and vegetables that looked like they needed to be picked soon. The patio had nice and comfortable furniture, and unlike some of the chairs inside, one of the chairs looked a little worn down. Dean guessed that Castiel spent a lot of time out here. And with the view- overlooking a distant lake with the mountains in the background- who could blame him?

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Castiel replied as he started pulling the crust from his bread. "I know it's not much, but I like it here."

Dean took another appreciative look around; he thought he liked it here, too.

"So what do you do for fun?"

The question seemed to catch Castiel off guard, and he didn't answer right away.

"I guess I… read?"

"Are you asking because you don't know?"

"No, I- I read. Mostly. Or go for runs, there are a lot of nice hiking paths nearby."

"Cool," Dean said. "I should check that out sometime."

There it was again, that small, hopeful look Castiel got whenever Dean mentioned something that implied he might be staying long-term. It almost made him feel guilty. As if sensing his discomfort, Castiel changed the subject.

"You're from Kansas, right?" Castiel asked as Dean nodded. "Did you have a house like this?"

"Naw, we lived in a suburban house in Lawrence. Wish we had a house like this, it would have made hiding out a lot easier."

Dean stopped when he saw Castiel was looking at him with a confused expression.

"Wait," Castiel asked. "You grew up in a suburb? And no one knew about you?"

"Pretty much," Dean shrugged. "Why?"

"Nothing," Castiel said after a pause. "I'm just surprised is all. Sorry, I'm going off of how I remember Samandriel as a kid, but I suppose it must be different for all Luministia."

"What do you mean?"

Castiel's gaze shifted to the table, looking to be considering his answer. Dean hesitated. As much as he wanted to know more about another Luministia's childhood, he had already scolded himself earlier for prying. But, he reasoned, if Castiel was offering the information, wouldn't it be rude to turn down his host on an offer? He decided to remain quiet and let Castiel share his story.

Finally, Castiel took a breath and explained.

"I was raised in an very religious family," he began. "Not fanatical, or overwhelming- we didn't take the bible literally or anything, but we were all very passionate about our faith. When Samandriel was born, we all rejoiced- my parents believed we were blessed with an angel to watch over us, a reward for our devotion.

"I also come from a very wealthy family. My parents had their influences and connections, and though I never knew the details of it, I believe it was because of their influence that he was not taken from us. As you can probably imagine, Samandriel became a sort of celebrity in our church. From the time that he could speak, people wanted him to pray with them. He never had to hide himself, never had to resist happiness. He was always bright."

Dean could picture it all in his head- a young Samandriel, raised in the belief that he was angelic. Heaven sent. Everyone loved and worshiped him, and he never had to live in fear. But then how…? His thoughts were interrupted as Castiel continued.

"I have four other siblings, all of them older, and we were all very close growing up. But when Samandriel was born… It was very obvious to everyone that he was the clear favorite. Our parents doted on him, compared us to him, and slowly, as often happens in large families, most of us became jealous of him. But it wasn't his fault.

"Maybe it was because I was the closest to him in age, but I spent a lot of time with Samandriel and got to know him, where the others kept their distance. I saw that he wasn't spoiled or conceited or self-centered; if anything, he didn't like so much attention, but he hated displeasing anyone, so he went along with it. He was very popular, and of course, there were dangers; occasionally, someone came to our church looking to do harm, but the power of my parents kept them at bay. That and the security guards they hired to protect him."

Castiel sighed.

"I loved my parents, but they were foolish if they thought their influence was enough to keep Samandriel safe. They died in a car accident when I had just turned eighteen, and their estate was split among us. The oldest of us, Michael, took over the company, and the others just sort of went their own way. I knew after my parents were gone that Samandriel wouldn't be safe, but when I asked the others for help, they either turned away or suggested that he learn how to be more of a contribution to the family. Michael wanted Samandriel to use his gifts to turn a profit, and when he refused, he was shunned. Eventually, I was the only willing to keep him safe, and I knew it was only a matter of time before hunters started tracking him again. That's when I found this place. Saw it online and took a road trip with Sam to check it out. He loved the lake. We bought it right away.

"Neither of us saw our family again after that. I kept records of them for a while, but they move on. I hate to think that envy could make people so cold, especially to one of their own, but when I reached out to them when Samandriel was taken, I didn't get so much as a phone call."

Castiel's gaze stayed on the table for a little while after he finished speaking, then he looked up at Dean with a small startle.

"Oh, I- I'm rambling again, I apologize."

"No," Dean said with a wave of his hand. "No, it's fine, I don't mind. I like hearing your stories."

The corners of his host's lips twitched but didn't quite make a smile.

"Thank you," he said. "I believe the point I was trying to get to was that when Samandriel was young he couldn't control his glow- everyone knew about him. Though I suppose he never had to. But you grew up in a suburb? And no one ever saw you?"

"Nope," Dean answered. "My parents were smart about it. I was home-schooled and kept inside mostly, but we did buy that cabin so I could run around and be a kid without worrying about being seen. It wasn't like it is now- when I was growing up, no one ever went by that lake, but in the past few years, more property was sold around there, so it wasn't safe. But mostly, I could control it. It took a lot of practice, but I got the hang of it after a while."

"It wasn't until we came here that Samandriel finally learned to control it. After our parents were gone, and the way our brothers and sister shunned him, he didn't glow at all for a long while. I think he always used that feeling- that memory- to suppress it."

They were quiet in the wake of their talk, and Dean didn't know how to break the silence, or even if he should. He looked down at their plates- he had finished most of his sandwich during Castiel's talk, but his host had barely touched his.

Castiel looked up at him suddenly as if having just realized something.

"Oh," he said. "Did that count as one of my questions?"

Dean couldn't help but give a small chuckle.

"Naw," he said. "We're both sharing a bit, it's okay."

"Alright," Castiel said. "Then I'd like to use one now. If it's okay."

"'Course. Shoot."

"I'd like to know more about your brother. What was he like when you were growing up? Was he… I mean, how did he take you being…?"

"Sam was always cool about it," Dean answered. "Maybe part of it had to do with me being older, I don't know, but we were always close. We used to play a game where I'd try to hold back, and he'd try to make me laugh, and if I glowed again, he won. He always won." Dean gave a small laugh at the memory, and he knew he had a dopey fond look on his face, but he didn't care. They were talking about brothers, and Dean had an awesome one.

"But no," Dean finished. "He was never, like, jealous or anything. I guess he was a bit like you were with Samandriel, he just treated me like a normal brother."

When Dean looked up, he saw Castiel was looking at him. More like staring, but before he could so much as raise his eyebrows at him, he tuned away.

"That's good," Castiel nodded. "I'm glad you had him, he sounds like a really good brother. What else can you tell me about him?"

Someone should have warned Castiel about this subject because once Dean started talking about Sammy, it was hard for him to stop. It was Castiel's turn to sit back and listen and eat his lunch while Dean ranted away about Sam growing up, how smart he was, how he got himself into Stanford- "- _a full ride, no less_ ,-" how he never forgot to keep in touch when he left.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he just talked like this. No judging, no having to explain himself for something he had done, nothing but friendly, unbiased conversation. He liked it.

"And when I left, he tracked me down to the motel I was staying in and wouldn't leave until I agreed to check in with him from time to time. All just to reassure himself that I was okay. But Sam wouldn't be Sam if he wasn't worrying all the time about something."

When Dean looked up again, he saw Castiel smiling at him, and he returned it. It was easy. All of it was. Why was he trying to leave so soon? He could stay a week or so.

They shared dish duty, and then Castiel said he had to do some work in his office. He wasn't sure exactly what he did, but Dean guessed having a house all the way out here didn't pay for itself. All he knew was that he worked from home, which he thought was pretty convenient.

Settling on watching TV for the next few hours, or for however long it took Castiel to reemerge from his work, Dean headed towards the living room when something in the window to his left caught his eye. It took him perhaps longer than it should have to realize that it wasn't coming from the outside, but from his reflection. What he thought was the sun catching something metallic in the yard was actually his eyes. He leaned closer to the window to get a better look; his eyes were bright. Just his eyes, nothing else, and he hadn't even noticed. But when…?

Oh. Well that explained Castiel's staring. Why didn't he say anything? Dean didn't know what to think of that, and chalked it up to him not wanting to ruin the mood. It almost made him laugh to think- looked like Sam won again. He made him glow without even being there.

With a smile, Dean dimmed his eyes before taking a seat on the couch and switching on Netflix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes as I hope, the next chapter will be posted next week! Thanks for your support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to figure out what his relationship with Castiel is, and contemplates when he should leave, and why he keeps putting it off. He wonders if the two subjects are mutually exclusive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for updates! I made the chapter a little longer than I was originally going to because I'm not sure when I'll be able to post next. I'm going to be putting a lot of focus on my DCBB, so that will take up most of my writing time. So enjoy a little extra story! I hope you all like it. As usual, this is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Chapter warnings for nyctophobia, small panic attack, nightmares, mentions of Dean's attack, masturbation, and angsty thoughts. 
> 
> Dean bby is trying to sort out what his feelings for Cas are, and he’s just not good at that sort of thing.

Dean sat bolt upright in bed.

His short gasps filled the quiet as he struggled to breathe. It felt like his chest was constricting, squeezing the air out of his lungs with each breath, his body covered in a cold sweat that made the sheets stick to him as he looked around the room.

The guest room. In Castiel's house. He was at Castiel's.

He was safe.

As the feeling of security slowly sank in, he felt his body relax. With shaky hands, he tried rubbing his face to help him feel more awake as his heart pounded in his ears and made his chest throb with each beat.

The nightmare had felt so real, in the way only the worst ones did; it was an exact replay of that night less than a week ago, the one where he woke up on his stomach, bound and exposed.

Looking at his hands, he carefully traced over one of his wrists. The bruises from the rope had long since healed- never fully formed, really- but he could still feel it, the burn of it against his skin, the imprint of it as he struggled, completely helpless, at the mercy of someone who wanted to do him harm.

With a sickening lurch, Dean threw the covers off and headed into the bathroom, fighting the sudden nauseating feeling in his stomach. He didn't bother with the light, he rarely did; usually it was because he didn't need it, but this time, it was for comfort. He felt a little safer in the dark, sometimes. It was almost a comfort, being able to see, but not be seen. It gave him a stronger sense of control, which helped the shakes die down.

The water felt cold against his hands when he turned the tap on, and it made him more alert when he splashed some of it on his face. His heart rate was still a little high, so he thought it again, over and over like a mantra: It was only a nightmare. It was over. He was safe. Again and again he said it until the trembling stopped. How many times was he going to have this nightmare?

When he reemerged from the bathroom, he saw the sky starting to lighten- the sun was just about to rise. Knowing there was no way he'd be able to fall back asleep before it was time to get up, he threw on a shirt, made his bed and headed downstairs.

Dean loved this time of morning, though he usually only saw it when he was about to fall asleep. There was something about the newness of the day that spoke to him, coupled with the idea of isolation, but in a comforting way. Dean felt the most alone right before dawn. Alone and safe. Untouchable.

Except he wasn't untouchable. And he wasn't alone.

He was safe, though, and not just at the break of morning.

Which brought his thoughts back around to Castiel, as his thoughts were prone to doing these days. It was a pleasant surprise that the time he spent there at Castiel's house was so comfortable. He got along great with him- Dean had never spent so much time around one person without so much as a disagreement coming up before. Sure, the guy missed a few of his jokes and was a little slow to pick up on sarcasm, but he was just so… nice? No, it was more than that. He was good. And he made Dean feel good.

He made Dean feel a lot of things, many of which he was unfamiliar with. And Dean had a way of dealing with things he didn't understand: ignore them. What was the point of trying to sort through these new emotions if he was leaving soon, anyway?

Dean headed over to the cabinet for a glass before going to the tap for water, the thought of leaving still going through his head. It wasn't that he didn't like it there- on the contrary, Castiel's house was awesome; he had access to free and unlimited TV, internet, phone, and food. Plus, the location was beautiful, even though he hadn't gone out to enjoy it yet. More than once, Dean felt like he was on vacation as opposed to hiding out.

But he couldn't stay. It wouldn't be right. Dean had lived the first twenty-four years of his life being a burden on others, he wasn't going to put his problems on Castiel. It didn't matter how much the guy insisted, Dean knew that, somewhere down the line, he'd be a problem. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, Dean always brought trouble to those who sheltered him. It was only a matter of time before whatever was out there trying to get him followed him here, and when it did catch up to him, he wouldn't put Castiel in the line of fire. He couldn't. If something happened to him because he was trying to protect Dean… He wasn't going to let that happen. No one was going to get hurt because of him. Not again.

So then why was he dragging his feet? Castiel never brought it up, but Dean was sure to mention it from time to time. Despite how he felt, he wasn't going to let his host think he was getting too comfortable and had changed his mind about staying. Dean considered that to be leading him on, and it wouldn't be fair. The excuses Dean gave himself were always valid, but as the days added up, they became less and less true. Back in the wake of his attack when he was still shaken up and needed to get his bearings straight, then of course it was reasonable that he stayed. But that was five days ago. And he really was going to leave.

But then the nightmares started. The nightly reoccurring reminders of his own vulnerability. They were shaking him up, vividly reminding him of what he might have to face again if he left. It wasn't that he was getting too comfortable, it wasn't the internet and the scenery that made him delay his departure. Dean was scared. This house meant protection, and leaving there meant the possibility that he could get attacked again, and he couldn't always count on a rescue from a friendly stranger to save him.

And then there was the rescuer himself. If Dean was being honest with himself- and I mean uncomfortably open, fully no-bullshit honest- Dean liked him. He was something Dean had never had before. It was different with Sam, where he had to hold back, or with his dad who he couldn't really open up to.

For the first time since Mary was alive, Dean had someone. Castiel was safe. He was honest and good and could be trusted. He knew about Dean's biggest secret, and somehow, without that obstacle, Dean found he could be himself for a change. It had taken him a while to come up with a word to match the feeling until one fit: acceptance. Castiel accepted Dean exactly as he was. There was nothing to hide, no reason to hold back. Dean could just be. It sounded so simple, but it was huge, and Dean never really appreciated the magnitude of it until Castiel reminded him what that felt like.

Put aside the fear of leaving, how fragile and vulnerable he felt, because even without that, Dean would still put off leaving. Not the house, but Castiel. Dean was reluctant to let go of the only chance of happiness he's ever been offered. Though, he reasoned, it's not like he couldn't come back. And what made him think Castiel liked him that way, anyway? The guy was just helping him out, that didn't mean he actually had feelings for Dean.

This was exactly why he never thought about these things. Better to ignore them, put them aside. Forget about them.

It was easier. It was safer. And Dean was all about safety first.

Thoughts of uncertainty and lingering traces of fear clogged Dean's head, making him feel a little dizzy. After he washed and put his glass away, he decided to go out on the patio for some fresh air.

It really was beautiful out there. The mountains in the distance, the lake just a little ways out from the house, the crisp, cool, clean September air. Just a few lungfuls, and Dean already felt better. His eyes gazed out at the shore of the lake. Another thing he liked about this place was the solitude, the complete withdrawal from the rest of humanity; out here, it was easy to feel like he was the only person around for miles.

Until he wasn't.

The sudden movement near the trees immediately drew his eye. Before his brain could even register the work 'jogger,' his body reacted instinctively, making him jump and dash back into the safety of the house. He knew he was being paranoid, knew that the person was way too far away to see him, and even if he did, it wasn't like he was glowing, but paranoia was a big part of keeping him alive this far. Carefully, he crept to the window in the door, and with his whole body concealed save for one eye, Dean gazed out at the other side of the lake.

Should he go tell Castiel? No, there was no need to wake him. If the man started running this way, then maybe, but as of now, there was no reason to think he was anything other than-

Wait… Dean narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure, his eyesight sharp enough to take in some of his appearance. Cautiously, Dean stepped back out onto the patio for a better look. Relief and a bit of something else he couldn't be bothered to identify made him break out in a smile.

Didn't Castiel say he liked to go running?

Without thinking, Dean half-ran to the shoe rack by the door and slipped on the new sneakers he had yet to wear, before taking off in the direction of the jogger.

He had been meaning to go see the lake, anyway.

* * *

The area behind the house was gorgeous. Colorful flowers and pretty plants decorated the paths, and the closer he got to the lake, the more beautiful it looked. The water was calm and surprisingly blue. There was even a dock near the right, almost on the opposite side of the house, that would make a great place to jump in. All of it framed by the mountains in the distance, the sun just breaking the dawn of morning

And Dean might have noticed it, if he were to give it the lightest hint of attention. There were a few paths that lead in the direction of the lake, and Dean took the one that looked the most used, sprinting passed the beautiful flowers and jumping over large stones in his haste to catch up to Castiel. He had had a good start, but he was only jogging, and Dean was fast.

The closer Dean got, the more giddy he felt. He couldn't explain it, he knew it was childish, but the thought that Castiel didn't know he was coming, that he was going to surprise him, made Dean feel like laughing. It was fun. You didn't have to explain fun.

The path veered off to the right up ahead, away from the lake, and Dean had a small pause- was he even on the right path? Too late to go back and try again, he thought, and continued off to the right. His lungs and thighs started to get that hint of a burn, but Dean ignored it. He really needed to work out more. Maybe he could start running with Castiel in the morning. If the guy was gonna do it anyway, then he might as well join him. Anything you could do on your own could always be more fun with someone else, right?

Just as the idea came to him, he picked up on the sound of footsteps near by, a steady, slower pace than Dean's. Dean immediately slowed just as the figure came into view up ahead- just behind a curve of trees was Castiel. Dean smirked to himself. Quietly, Dean resumed his running, much slower now, but faster than his target. The giddy feeling in his stomach grew with each step until it felt like a fluttering in his gut.

When he was about ten feet away, he noticed a wire hanging from Castiel's ear- headphones. _Perfect_. Knowing he didn't have to worry about being heard made it all that much easier to get closer. It also helped with Dean's uncontrollable snickering. Finally, when he was right behind him, Dean pounced on Castiel like a cat would a toy.

There was only one thing Dean didn't account for in his otherwise flawless plan to surprise Castiel: physics. The momentum from Dean's jump knocked an unsuspecting Castiel forward, and with the weight of another man on him, he tripped. Thinking fast, Dean drew Castiel close to him and threw his weight so he could take the impact, making Castiel fall on top of him instead of the ground. Somehow, he didn't think his small act of heroism would be getting a 'thank you.'

If Dean wanted a surprised Castiel, then mission accomplished. If his back didn't hurt so much, he might have laughed at the look of panic on Castiel's face when he turned to face his attacker.

"Oops," Dean said with a wince.

"Dean?" Rolling over to face Dean, Castiel looked at him with wide and confused eyes. "What happened? Are you okay? What's wrong? What are you doing out here?"

The questions came very fast, and it took Dean a second to realize that Castiel was concerned. Somehow, that notion made him laugh. There Dean was, trying to scare him, then accidentally knocking the wind out of himself like an idiot, and instead of getting angry, instead of laughing with a ' _Serves you right_ ,' he was worried that something was wrong.

"M'fine, m'fine," Dean waved it off with another laugh before looking up at Castiel. From where he was. On his back. Laying underneath him.

Dean's throat went suddenly dry when the position they were in dawned on him, while Castiel, holding himself up by his arms, looked down at him with confusion and concern. Unaware of the turn Dean's thoughts had taken, Castiel continued with his need to make sense of the situation.

"What are you doing out here? Did you need something? Is something wrong at the house?"

"Cas," Dean said, finally deciding to sit up before Castiel caught on to his awkwardness. "I'm fine, everything is fine, relax-"

"But then why did you jump on me if there wasn't an emergency?"

Dean looked at Castiel from where he sat in front of him, taking in the way he leaned forward and his expression of confusion, and uncertainty filled Dean's thoughts.

"I, uh," Dean said, running his hand over the back of his neck. "I was trying to scare you. You know, like a surprise?"

Castiel blinked at him a few times.

"You wanted to scare me," Castiel said. "Like a prank."

Dean gave an apologetic half-shrug, unsure how Castiel would react. Before Dean could properly say sorry, however, the man surprised him by laughing.

"You ran all the way out here just to scare me?" Castiel said around his chuckling. "Well, if it helps anything, it worked. I was definitely scared."

Brushing the dirt off of his pants, Castiel stood up and reached a hand to help Dean stand.

"What are you doing up this early?" Castiel asked as he wrapped his headphones around his iPod and pocketed it. "I didn't wake you when I got up, did I?"

"No, no, I just…" had yet another terrifying nightmare about my almost-rape for the fifth time this week. "Couldn't sleep. I went to get some water when I saw you from the kitchen window."

"Oh, okay, that's- wait, you saw me from the house? From the other side of the lake?" Castiel looked confused for a moment before smiling in understanding. "Oh right, I forgot. Of course your eyesight would be perfect. Well, since you're here, did you want to jog with me?"

Dean had to really try to suppress his smile.

"Yeah, sure, if you wouldn't mind the company. I've been meaning to see the lake."

"Of course I wouldn't mind, I like spending time with you."

And he failed.

"The lake is beautiful this time of morning," Castiel continued, kindly ignoring the stupid grin on Dean's face. "Wanna race there?"

And then Dean's grin turned into a smirk.

"You sure that's a good idea? I mean, I don't wanna brag, but I'm pretty fast."

"I think I can hold my own," Castiel said confidently. "The lakes not too much farther from here, it's just around this clearing. But before we start, could you help me find my iPod? I think I dropped it when I fell."

Castiel pointed to the tree behind him next to where Dean first tackled him. Eyes on the ground searching for something shiny, Dean walked half-bent over to the area before he remembered that he saw Castiel put his iPod in his pocket. Just as he was about to straighten up and remind Castiel, he felt a hand on his back push him and he toppled over. Turning around to ask what the deal was, he found that Castiel was gone, the sound of quick footsteps fading by the second towards the lake.

"Oh, you cheating son of a bitch," Dean laughed as he jumped up and bolted after Castiel.

Dean had to admit, Castiel was pretty fast, but Dean was gaining on him with each step. Within ten seconds, he had caught up, trailing just behind him, as the reflection of the water came into view up ahead. Dean pulled even with him as they neared the clearing, and was the first to break past the line of trees, beating Castiel by several feet.

"Ha!" Dean cheered with a fist in the air as he turned to face a still running Castiel. "Sorry, no trophies for second plac-"

The breath from Dean's sentence was knocked right out of him as Castiel tackled him to the ground.

"What's that they say about payback?" Castiel said. After catching his breath, he rolled off Dean's stupefied form and walked over to the shoreline. Carefully, he stood on one foot, and tipped the toe of his sneaker into the water. "I win!" Castiel called back over his shoulder.

"What?" Dean exclaimed with an incredulous laugh from where he still laid on the grass. Coming back to his senses, he stood back up and walked towards the cheater. "What do you mean 'you win?' I got here miles before you did!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Castiel said sarcastically. "Did I say we were racing to the area _around_ the lake, or to the actual lake? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure I said the latter."

"Wow," Dean said, staring at Castiel with a smile of disbelief. "I gotta say, I always pictured you as a sort of goody two-shoes, I had no idea you were such a rule-breaker."

"Rule-breaker?" Castiel said, placing a hand on his heart and looking mock-offended. "We didn't set any rules."

"They're universally understood," Dean educated him. "Everyone knows you don't push someone before a race, and you don't put loop-holes for the finish line. It's called sportsmanship."

"You know," Castiel smirked as he walked onto the dock and waited for Dean to follow him. "If you go through life assuming everyone follows your rules, you're going to end up disappointed and losing a lot of races."

"Clearly."

"Don't be a sore loser."

"I'm not being a sore anything," Dean mumbled as he followed Castiel down to the end of the dock and sat down. "It really is nice out here."

The sun had finally shown itself just over the horizon, turning the sky into an array of different pale colors, and casting it's light over the stillness of the lake. The dock went about fifteen feet out into the lake, and he had to keep his feet up a few inches to keep his shoes from getting wet. Castiel took a seat next to him, bringing up a hand to help shield some of the light from his eyes. It was quiet for a few moments. Peaceful. Dean could count on one hand the number of times he felt this relaxed outdoors, and never had they happened with someone else present.

It was just another way Castiel was different. Dean would never have had the urge to run and laugh and be this carefree before coming here, and while he was definitely checking himself every few seconds to make sure he didn't slip, he still couldn't believe he was risking it. Ever since the moment he caught his reflection in that window, since he found himself glowing in front of Castiel, he had been on a sort of Happiness Watch, determined not to slip up like that again. While we was sure Castiel didn't mind, and that no one else was near by to see him, he wasn't going to let himself get complacent.

That was how accidents happened.

Even still, he couldn't help but feel happy. This morning was proving to be one of the funnest mornings that he could recall. From chasing and scaring Castiel, to the fun of their race (which Dean totally won, he didn't care what anyone said), hell, even their bantering, all of it, was making him feel happy. Right then, in that moment, sitting on that dock with Castiel watching the sunrise like some cheesy chick flick movie ending, Dean could feel the prickle of his glow right under his skin, fighting him every second to reveal itself.

And he wanted to let it.

It wasn't just about feeling safe; when Dean was around Castiel, he felt happy. Everything felt right and good in a way he hadn't felt in too long.

Dean didn't realized he had been staring at Castiel for a little too long until the man turned to face him. Their eyes met, and for the briefest flash of a moment, Dean could have sworn he felt something pass between them. Like they understood what the other was thinking, because they were thinking it, too. All of a few seconds passed before Dean looked back out at the lake.

"Yep," he said. "Really nice out here."

"I like it," Castiel agreed. In Dean's peripherals, he saw him turn back to the lake and nod. "It's nice and quiet."

"If you like the quiet so much, why'd you bring an iPod?"

"Running to music is very motivating," Castiel answered matter-of-factly.

"What were you listening to?" Dean asked. He was curious of Castiel's taste in tunes.

"That's not of import," Castiel dismissed. "I hope you'll run with me again. I find it much more motivational when I have someone to run with."

"You mean when you have someone to beat you. That's a good idea, I'm sure it'll be a good exercise for you to try and keep up with me."

"You mean like I did today? Remind me, who won that race again?"

"I will shove you in this lake."

"I'll pull you in with me."

"You can try."

"We'll see what my try is worth when you're swimming with me."

"You think you're strong enough to best me?" Dean said, looking at Castiel with a challenging smirk.

"Only one way to find out," Castiel answered, not backing down from Dean's stare.

"Keep it up," Dean joked, looking back out at the lake, because staring at Castiel's eyes was doing him no favors. "That water is looking really cold for you."

Castiel just laughed and playfully knocked his shoulder against Dean's.

"But yeah," Dean said. "I'd like to go running with you. I'm so out of shape, it'll do me some good to get some exercise in every now and then."

"This is you out of shape?" Castiel asked with an air of disbelief, making Dean laugh.

"I appreciate your surprised reaction," Dean said.

"I guess that makes sense," Castiel added with an understanding nod. "It would explain why you couldn't beat me running here- you've become sluggish, but you didn't want to admit it, so you blamed your shortcomings on me. It all makes sense now."

"Hey, can I see your iPod real quick?"

"Why, did you want to listen to something?"

"No, I just don't want it in your pocket when you hit the water."

The sound of Castiel's laugh filled the space between them, and Dean thought it was a nice sound. He'd like to hear it more often.

"So what are you going to make for breakfast?" Castiel asked after his chuckling subsided, as if deciding that maybe he didn't feel like taking a morning swim.

Somehow over the past week, cooking became Dean's thing. As it turned out, Castiel preferred quick easy-to-make meals that were usually stored in the freezer. Then Dean started making their meals, and it just sort of stuck. Not that he minded- cooking was possibly the one chore Dean enjoyed. I mean, why have a fully functioning kitchen if you weren't gonna use it? And he was definitely in favor of the positive reactions Castiel had towards his food, always smiling when he went into the kitchen and smelled what was being made, maybe taking a small sample and thanking Dean for making it.

"I was thinking omelets," Dean answered.

"Mmm," Castiel hummed in appreciation. "If I knew that was on the menu, I would have started heading back by now."

Castiel stood and reached his hand out to Dean to help him up for the second time that morning.

"Yeah, I'm getting hungry, too." Dean added as they started walking back towards the trees. A sudden thought occurred to him and he grinned at Castiel. "Hey, wanna race to the house?"

"No, I feel like walking."

"Now who's the sore loser?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean and Castiel's friendly back-and-forth bantering continued all the way back to the house. Fun, teasing comments, small shoves, and easy laughs flowed between them until Castiel left Dean in the kitchen to take a shower. While Dean stood at the stove and started preparing to make the omelets, he thought back on his morning with an easy grin.

The fear from the nightmare was long gone, completely forgotten in the wake of his time with Castiel, replacing it with smiles and new memories.

* * *

Unfortunately, Castiel had to work that afternoon, and while Dean never disliked having the house to himself, the long Castiel-less hours became lonely after awhile. When Castiel locked himself in his office (which turned out to be the room with the huge bookshelf), Dean looked for ways to keep himself occupied.

As there were only two people living in the house, it didn't really get messy, but Dean went about cleaning anyway. It was his go-to thing when Castiel wasn't around, partly because nothing passed the time like chores, but mostly because it was essentially the only thing he could do to show his thanks for free living. Cooking, cleaning, and providing company. That was it. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until he left, found a good paying job, and could offer Castiel money for his help. He doubted Castiel would even accept money from him, because he was just awesome that way. but that didn't mean he couldn't offer.

Once the carpeted rooms were vacuumed, the wooden floors swept, every surface of the downstairs dusted, Dean ran out of things to do. Both him and Castiel were orderly- they did their dishes as they dirtied them, and nothing was really out of place.

Dean stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around. He couldn't think of anything else to do. There was always Netflix, but the internet wasn't the fastest here, and if Castiel was using the computer upstairs, he didn't want to slow his connection. So then how else could he pass the time?

The thought nudged at his mind and slowly took root, making Dean grin. That wasn't something he had done in a while- definitely not since he had arrived at Castiel's. He looked at the clock on the stove- if Castiel stuck to his usual schedule, then there were still two hours to kill before his host left his office.

Plenty of time for a few rounds.

With a slightly devious smirk, Dean trotted up the stairs, but quieted when he reached the landing and passed the closed door of the office. Dean slipped into the guest room and hesitated before locking the door- was he allowed to? He thought it might be best not to- Castiel always knocked anyway, and he'd hear him if he left the office. Shrugging it off, he turned away from it and stepped more into the room. Despite his being on the second floor in a house that was on a mountain, Dean still followed his habit of checking the curtains, making sure no trace of light could get through. It made the room dark, but when he reached for the light switch, he stopped himself; he was going to leave the light off this time.

The urge to glow that followed so closely to his arousal hummed just under his skin, but it felt different from how it usually did. Maybe it was because this time was different; Dean wasn't under threat here, there was no danger, but the feeling carried the hint of shame that said he was doing something private in someone else's home. It had that feeling of wrongness, and it just made Dean want to do it more.

Slowly, almost as if teasing himself, Dean stripped off his clothes. Standing in the middle of the room, he pulled off his shirt and dropped it in front of the dresser. Warm hands ran over his chest, his abs, before finding his hips. Hooking his thumbs under the waistbands of both his pants and boxers, he pushed them down, and let them drop, kicking them to fall beside his shirt.

He took a deep breath, and let go.

It was like feeling the sun on his skin after living in a cave, the glow flowing freely over his skin, warm and natural. The pleasant pins and needles sensation overtook any other as Dean looked down at himself.

God, he loved the way this felt. A natural, full body glow, confident and bold, illuminating the room around him. He took his time, admiring the contrast he gave the dark room. The longer he stood there, the more he believed it was an instinct, the urge to light up dark spaces, to chase away the black and fill it with his glow. This was what he was made for.

But he didn't come up here just to look around.

Dean went over to the bed, walking on his knees over the comforter until he could throw himself onto his back in the center of the mattress. His hands trembled slightly as the anticipation built up. It was stronger this time than it was the others, felt more intense, somehow; he didn't even need to work himself up, already able to reach down and drag three fingers through his slick before it dripped onto the blanket.

Just because he had all the time he could want didn't mean he wanted to go slow, so without further teasing, he took himself in hand, spreading the slick around his length in a tight fist. The rush of sensations caused by his wetness made him gasp and he let out a small moan of appreciation, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Then a reminder struck him- Castiel was right down the hall.

Instead of motivating him to stay silent, the thought made Dean groan and he moved his hand just a little faster, rubbing the slick into his skin with each movement. Somehow the idea that Castiel was so close by while he was doing this made his arousal spark through him. But that didn't make sense- Dean was usually terrified by the idea of someone discovering him like this, not fantasizing about being walked in on, and yet, that was all that was going through his mind. Maybe that's why he didn't lock the door; maybe he wanted Castiel to find him like this, maybe he wanted Castiel to come in here, maybe he wanted Castiel-

Dean flinched hard and sat up so fast it made him momentarily dizzy. What the hell was he thinking? Why would he want Castiel anywhere near him while he was exposed like this? While he was in a glow and touching himself?

A thought occurred to him then- that's why this was feeling so different. Any time Dean had ever done this, it was for the sake of relieving himself, to make himself feel good. Never had he pleasured himself with someone else in mind. It felt more… intense. Dean couldn't deny that the idea scared him a little. But he also couldn't deny that it excited him. A lot.

He looked back down at himself, contemplating stopping; his body was still very much interested in continuing (and maybe his mind was as well), but should he? Slowly, almost as if he were suspicious of his own mind, Dean laid back down on the bed, re-slicked his hand, and gripped himself again. His movements were slower now, almost hesitant, but eventually he was able to find a steady rhythm.

Within seconds, his body picked right back up where he left off, but his mind was having trouble cooperating. His thoughts were a little harder to control, and they kept straying away from where he wanted them. He tried to focus on the feeling, and not think of anything (or anyone) specific, but no matter what he did, thoughts of Castiel streamed back into his mind. There was no stopping it. It came to a point where Dean had to choose: either stop touching himself, force his glow away, and get dressed, or… accept it.

Dean chose the latter.

Without his mental blockade, his mind filled itself with moments of Castiel, either real or invented. He thought about before at the lake, the way Castiel had held himself over him, of how he had tackled him to the ground, so much stronger than he looked. The solid weight of him felt so good against Dean's body, even though it was just for a moment.

Dean's hips rocked up into his fist, his breathing turning harsh, echoing loudly in the empty room. Not too loudly, but maybe loud enough… The office was only a little ways down the hall… Dean imagined what might happen if Castiel heard him. In his mind's eye, he fantasized Castiel hearing him so out of breath and coming to check on him, opening the door just enough to make sure he was okay.

And when he saw Dean, spread out on the bed, desperate, and so bright, what would he do? What did Dean _want_ him to do? Fuck, he wanted Castiel to touch him. To kiss him, to move against him, for his weight to cover him, and push him into the mattress. Dean wanted to know what it felt like to have Castiel's body heat pressed against him, to know what he tasted like after he kissed marks into his neck. He wanted to know what Castiel's hand would feel like in place of his own, working him closer and making him feel perfect. Dean wanted to hear Castiel's voice, so deep but comforting, as he whispered in his ear, encouraging him to come, telling him how good he was, how he made Castiel feel. God he just wanted-

" _Cas_ ," Dean hissed as his orgasm ripped through him, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

It felt like a star burst behind his eyes, the heat rolling over his skin as he tried to catch his breath. When he could finally open his eyes, all he could see was his light reflecting off the ceiling, and either he had forgotten how bright he could become, or he had never glowed this hard before. He had definitely never come this hard before, and it was taking a lot longer for him to come back to himself than it normally did.

When his breath evened out, and his heart rate slowed, and he felt he had the strength the do so, Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his body. Glistening patches of come shined up at him in patterns all over his stomach and chest, almost like a decoration. Dean slid a finger through one of the thicker drops and brought it up to his face, as always, admiring the glittery look of it.

Dean spent the next minute licking his fingers clean until his stomach was dry. There was definitely a lot more come than he was used to, not that he minded of course, but it was another change to account for. When he shifted his hips against the bed, he could feel himself dripping; Dean was normally wet after an orgasm, but when he felt how much was leaking out of him now, he knew it was more than normal.

Spent and satisfied, Dean laid back on the bed with a long exhale and let his thoughts wander, though there was really only one thing to think about.

Castiel.

Dean was not so naive and sheltered that he didn't know what this meant. He, in some way, liked Castiel. That much was obvious. But how much of what he felt was real? He had only known the guy for a week, verging on less. There was no way what he felt for Castiel was anything more than (he stayed determinedly away from the term 'crush') superficial. It was temporary. After all, Dean was, to put it lamely, pent up when it came to his hormones, and now he was spending the majority of everyday with an (extremely) attractive guy. Thoughts like this were bound to happen, it's only rational. Expected, really.

Just because they had spent a lot of time together, and had gotten to know a lot about each other, and had shared a good handful of personal, intimate moments, and enjoyed each others company, and Dean missed him when he was gone, and Castiel said he liked spending time with him didn't mean that what he felt was serious.

Right?

Dean let out a frustrated groan before sitting up, his jumbled thoughts starting to give him a headache. He needed to get his shit together and kill his glow before he did anything else, but before he could try and force it, his mind ventured somewhere unexpected-

Just because Dean like Castiel didn't mean Castiel would like him back.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and the room went abruptly dark.

Well, he thought with a bitter laugh, that took care of that. He went to remake the bed when he saw the large and obvious wet spot and decided to strip the sheets for washing. Placing the bundle on the bed, he grabbed his clothes from the front of the dresser and added them to the bundle before redressing in something from the closet. He pulled out some jeans and a solid green shirt that he hadn't worn yet, pulling them on. The shirt had that nice, new softness to it, and it felt good on his slightly sensitive skin. He was careful not to think about how Castiel had bought it for him.

With a defeated sigh, Dean sank onto the bed again. What should he do? How long was he going to keep this up? It would only get worse if he stayed, he knew it. Maybe now was a good time to leave. Without warning, a flash from his nightmare lit up his mind's eye, and Dean shuddered hard, goosebumps erupting over his skin as fear seized through him. He could leave, but what if…

Before he could fully recover, he heard a door open down the hall.

"Dean?" a rough voice called out, muffled slightly by the closed door between them.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I'm in here!"

Footsteps approached the guest room, but stopped when they got to the door, Castiel speaking to him though it.

"The weather is starting to get bad, and they're calling for a thunderstorm tonight. The internet went out, so I was going to go start lunch if you wanted to join me," Castiel told him before adding. "If you're not too busy, of course. I mean, you don't have to, I'm not asking you to make me anything, I just thought-"

"Yeah," Dean interrupted, stopping Castiel from repeatedly correcting himself as he was known to do. "That sounds fine, I'll be right down."

"Oh," Castiel said. "Okay, then. I'll just… meet you in the kitchen. No hurry, just come when you can. If you want."

With another pause, as if he were thinking of adding something else, Castiel could be heard walking down the hall, his footsteps going down the stairs.

Dean had to hold back a laugh, because yeah, that was so like Castiel, wanting to ask for his help, but not wanting to sound demanding or bother him, and not opening the door because he didn't want to intrude on Dean's space, even though this was his house. They were funny to him, these little quirks of Castiel's. Sure the guy was a little weird, but mostly he was-

Dean's thought process stopped when he saw the room light up, and it gave him pause as he looked around for the source before settling on his hands.

Oh. Well then.

He was glowing again. All traces of the fear and doubt from his earlier thoughts had vanished, and he grinned at the sight.

Fuck it. He didn't want to think about it anymore, whether this was a good or bad thing. If it meant he had some one-sided feelings, who cared? He would deal with them later, or never, because that always worked for him. And maybe he was putting off leaving, but there was no point concerning himself about that now, not lunch being prepared in the kitchen, and a thunderstorm on it's way.

He didn't have to worry about it now, and that was all that mattered.

Double checking his dull, glow-free skin, Dean grabbed the bundle of cloth to throw in the washing machine and left the guest room.

* * *

Thunder shook the whole house and Dean could feel the vibrations of it resonate through his body as he joined Castiel on the couch.

The storm, it turned out, was indeed pretty bad that night. If it weren't for Castiel's reassurances that the house was safe and had suffered through much worse, Dean would be worried. But as it was, he relaxed into the plush couch and handed over the large bowl of popcorn he had made for their movie.

Being the good host that he is, Castiel had let Dean choose what they saw. He looked over the sizable collection of DVD's on the shelf beside the TV, his eyes immediately falling on the perfect thing- couldn't go wrong with Star Wars, right?

The nostalgic look Castiel had had when he handed the movie over made Dean pause- because _shit, was that one of Samandriel's movies?_ \- but it only lasted a moment before it was replaced with a smile. Dean went to make their snack while Castiel set up the movie.

"This is actually one of my favorites," Castiel informed Dean as large, yellow words scrolled up the screen.

"See, I knew there was a reason we got along so well," Dean said.

He reached over Castiel and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his lap. He was aware he could have just held the bowl himself. He chose not to.

But Castiel didn't offer it back, instead letting Dean reach over him each time he wanted popcorn, but Dean wasn't going to read into that. Best to just focus on the movie, and not the warmth of the shoulder that was pressed against his. He hadn't meant to sit that close, but Castiel didn't move away, either.

The movie played on, and it was a good thing that Dean had seen it so many times, or he would be completely lost to what was happening. He couldn't help it- Castiel was just so _distracting_. The gruff sound of his laugh was way more interesting to listen to than 3PO sassing at R2. Every movement caught Dean's attention, from his hand that was transferring popcorn from a steadily emptying bowl to his mouth, to the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Even the smell of him drew some of Dean's focus away from the movie. When Castiel leaned forward to grab his drink from the coffee table, Dean found himself holding his breath, until Castiel resettled next to him, their shoulders still touching, and he relaxed.

As both of them had seen the movie, it was natural that they talk throughout the whole thing, giving their opinions, adding their own commentary, and pointing out their favorite parts.

"I had the biggest crush of Han when I was growing up," Castiel admitted with a laugh. "I think I still do."

When Dean looked back on this moment in the future, he would ponder how it was he didn't have a bigger reaction, because instead of looking at Castiel in surprise, or reflecting on the man's sexuality, he laughed and said-

"Seriously? Me, too! Sammy and I would get into arguments because he thought Luke was more powerful, and we argue over who was better."

"That doesn't sound like much of an argument, though I may be biased," Castiel admitted.

"Luke may have had special abilities, but Han was just… I don't know, cooler."

"Han didn't need special abilities, he got on fine without them."

"See, you just get it," Dean said.

He relished in the small laugh it earned him, turning to see the smile he had won, too. What he saw, instead, was Castiel staring at him. The look of humor froze on his face, and he looked for a moment like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been. Their eyes met, and Dean couldn't look away. They were so close. Close enough that Dean could feel the warmth of Castiel's breath on his skin as he breathed almost too slowly.

There is was again. That feeling as if something were passing between them, as if they knew the other's thoughts because they were thinking it, too. He watched as Castiel's eyes flashed down to his mouth, and without meaning to do so, Dean automatically licked his lips. When Castiel met his eyes again, he could see the unasked question, and Dean inched forward as if drawn to him.

That's when everything went dark.

Dean's head jerked to look at the room in surprise, his eyes adjusting immediately to the sudden darkness; all of the lights had gone out, the TV screen black, just as another boom of thunder shook the room. Enough seconds passed before a back up generator kicked on, and the lights blinked back to life, the TV emitting a blank, blue screen as his eyes readjusted. Dean felt like his heart was in his throat, though he wasn't sure it was just from the shock of the short power outage. He let out a small chuckle to cover his embarrassment.

"Almost forgot about the storm for a seco-" 

The words stuck in Dean's throat when he turned back to Castiel.

Castiel's eyes were wide, fearful, and he had one hand on his heart, as if trying to force it to slow down. His gasps could be heard over the pouring rain outside and the cracks of thunder. He looked so small and terrified. Dean reacted instinctively.

"Hey," he whispered. "Hey, look at me, it's okay."

Dean placed both hands on his shoulders and turned his body more towards him until blue eyes met his. They were still wide as Castiel looked at Dean and slumped against him, and Dean held him against his chest, rocking him slightly, whispering comforts in his ear. He could feel Castiel's whole body shaking under his arms as he waited for the fear to pass.

After a few moments, Castiel did stop shaking, but Dean didn't let go, not until Castiel felt safe. More and more time passed until slowly, Castiel shakily pushed himself off of Dean. If Dean had thought _he_ looked embarrassed when the lights clicked back on, it was nothing compared to the reddening of Castiel's face and his ' _please let me evaporate_ ' expression.

"I- I apologize," Castiel stammered out, his voice sounding faint. "I didn't mean to- I mean, I-"

"Cas," Dean cut in to spare Castiel from trying to find the words that weren't coming. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

Dean hesitated before asking; as curious as he was, he didn't want to embarrass Castiel further, but if something were wrong, he'd want to know if he could help.

"What… was that?" he asked cautiously.

Castiel sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, either to help him clear his eyesight or so he wouldn't have to look at Dean.

"I suffer from a condition called 'Nyctophobia,'" he stated, and as if sensing the confused look on Dean's face, he explained further. "It's a fear of the dark."

While his voice sounded stronger, it still carried that hint of fear, both from what had just happened as well as from judgment. A heaviness hung in the air between them, rich with Dean's worry and Castiel's uncertainty, and Dean just wanted to clear it out.

Dean knew these next few moments were delicate, and he had to treat them as such. The moment was hanging on whatever he was about to say next; it needed to carry the weight of comfort while letting Castiel know he wasn't being judged, but not be too heavy as to weigh the moment down more.

"I'm afraid of heights," Dean said with the air of a shrug. He thought about it for a second and decided to offer an embarrassment of his own. "Once, a few years back, this fair came through town, and my brother and I decided to go. There was this huge Ferris wheel there- and I mean _huge_ , you could see it from miles away- and Sam bet me fifty dollars to go on it. Normally, I'd tell him to can it, but there were these two girls were we trying to impress, so I couldn't say no. When we got to the top, I got so sick, I puked all over everyone. Sam was so mad, but really, it was his own fault."

Dean's gaze was unfocused, caught up in the memory, but when he came to and looked back at Castiel, he saw the man staring at him with an unreadable expression.

It was Dean's turn to sit and wait for the reaction. Shit, did he say the wrong thing? He just told a vomit story, of course it was the wrong thing- what the hell was he thinking, this was a serious moment, why did he always have to-

The soft sound of Castiel's chuckle ceased Dean's self-berating.

"Did you ever get your fifty dollars?" Castiel asked him, and Dean grinned back.

"Nope," he declared. "Sam said he needed it to buy new pants and shoes. I got him back, though. See, he has a fear of clowns, so I bought a small clown doll and put it on his pillow while he was sleeping. Woke up with a scream."

Castiel laughed again, and Dean could feel the weight in the air dissipate with the sound.

"How afraid of heights are you? You know we are on a mountain."

"Eh," Dean shrugged. "We're close enough to the ground for me to be alright. Pretty much anything that's high enough for the fall to kill me is a no. Ferris wheels are a double no. Airplanes are a hell-no."

"That should be manageable. There aren't many of those around the house, so you should be fine."

Dean smiled at him and watched as Castiel returned it easily. It took Dean longer than it should have to realize his hand was still on Castiel's knee, a comforting touch from when the man was still shaking. Now that there were laughs between them, there was no reason to keep touching him. Except Castiel hadn't said anything. Dean decided to keep it there. For reassurance.

Movie long forgotten, Dean and Castiel stayed up late exchanging stories, mostly prank-based, until they were both in fits of laughter. Outside, the storm raged on, turning the surrounding area into a dark, dangerous downpour, but inside, there was only light, laughs, and good feelings.

Eventually, Dean fought a yawn, and Castiel pointed out that it was late. They switched off the TV and headed to the stairs together, walking side by side until they had to split up on the landing.

"Well, um," Castiel said. "Goodnight."

"See you in a few hours."

There was a pause, as if Castiel wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. With another small smile, he turned and walked to his room.

Dean laid out in the middle of the mattress, his thoughts putting off sleep for the time being. He kept reverting back to that moment, when the lights came back on, the look on Castiel's face… he had never seen him so scared. Despite the impression Dean gave, seeing Castiel like that did make him see him differently. He wasn't sure what it was, or what it said about him, but being so close when Castiel was so vulnerable changed something between them.

Maybe it was because Castiel had seen Dean like that. Vulnerable. Exposed. When he had rescued Dean that night, barely a week ago, he had seen Dean naked and terrified and helpless. It didn't get more vulnerable than that. When Castiel trembled against him, and Dean comforted him, it was like they could both relate. They understood each other, what it felt like to be ruled by their fears.

Dean concentrated on how it felt to hold Castiel in his arms. Though he wasn't thinking so at the time, it was nice. The weight of him, the warmth. And, oh! Dean almost gasped out loud. In the wake of the power outage, Dean had forgotten until his mind brought it to his attention.

The moment right before it went dark; were they about to…? No, he must have been imagining it. Must have been. Except Castiel held the bowl of popcorn, making Dean have to lean over him every time he wanted some. Except Castiel didn't move away when Dean sat a little too close, letting their shoulders touch throughout the movie. Except something definitely happened between them, both tonight on the couch, and that morning on the dock, when they looked at each other. Except Castiel had looked at Dean's lips, and he was so sure they were about to… This many signs didn't lead to coincidence.

Castiel had even said he had had a crush on Han Solo, so had was at least gay, if not bi. It was possible. Castiel might feel the same way.

The humming under Dean's skin had been bothering him since they started the movie, and kicked up again once they started telling stories. Here, in the safety of the guest room, Dean stopped resisting, giving out just the slightest glow that grew with each thought of Castiel, each notion of _maybe_.

That night, Dean let his mind lead him wherever it wanted him to go, sure to keep his moans quiet, even if he secretly did want them to echo down the hall. This time, he had the presence of mind to lay down a t-shirt over the clean sheets. He didn't want to have to explain why he had to wash his bedding twice in two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun doing this chapter, and I hope you guys liked it! I'll try and update as soon as I can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel reflects on the past few days with Dean, and how he feels about him. (Spoiler: He likes him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is super short, but there is more coming! I'm not sure when it'll be done, but I didn't want you guys to have to wait for me to find the free time to finish it. Especially since school has started up, all of my hours are going to that these days. 
> 
> But here is a mini chapter to tie you over until the larger update comes! Again sorry it's not very long.

The drive back from town was quiet. Castiel had always liked long, silent trips in his car- it was a soothing feeling, the repetitive roads, the sound of the wind rushing by. It relaxed him, these moments.

Which was why it felt so strange to him that he didn't appreciate it as much this time. Because as much as he enjoyed his quiet, peaceful drives to and from town, he found himself wishing he had company.

Dean had only gone with him to the stores a couple of times in the week he had been staying with Castiel, and it amazed him how his own preferences, his routines, his favorite moments could be altered so abruptly in such a short amount of time. Now, instead of enjoying a quiet ride home from the grocery store, he found himself missing Dean's simple commentary. If there was one thing to be said about his house guest, it would be that the man knew how to fill a quiet space.

Castiel had always liked the quiet, but now, he found he greatly preferred Dean's small talk. The man always had something to say. He engaged Castiel, asked him questions, made the conversation easy. He wasn't sure what Dean was so curious about him for, but it made him a little happier each time Dean asked if he could ask him something. It meant Dean wanted to know more about him, like the little things mattered. Each question made him feel important. Each joke made him feel included. Each time he made Dean laugh felt like an accomplishment.

And that was why Castiel suddenly found his usually enjoyable quiet ride home to be boring, and a waste of time.

When he got back to the house, he found it quiet and empty. Dean wasn't there, but he had anticipated that. He placed the bags on the kitchen counter before walking over to the sink to peek out of the window. It had come as a pleasant surprise the way Dean had taken to the garden. He told Castiel about how his mother used to grow her own vegetables and how he used to help her, and if Castiel didn't mind, he could tend to the one here.

There was naturally a bit of hesitation; the garden had belonged to his brother, after all. But then he thought about how beautiful it used to look, and he was sure Samandriel wouldn't want it to stay neglected. He himself didn't know the first thing about gardening, and unfortunately, the once ripe and colorful vegetation had become overgrown with weeds left to run wild.

It needed a lot of maintenance, which was most likely the reason Dean had asked about it.

It didn't escape Castiel's notice the way his house had adopted this permanent state of recently-cleaned, despite him having not touched a rag since he brought Dean here. His guest liked to be helpful, to contribute, and he needed something to do while Castiel was working; he didn't seem like the type of person who was content with sitting still and watching TV for more than two hours straight. Tending to the garden kept Dean busy during the day, but more than that- it made him feel like he was contributing, and being helpful.

Only a few days had passed since Dean had taken up the job, and Castiel had to admit, the backyard was already looking better. With a smile, he turned from the window and unloaded his groceries.

Dean had been with him for seven days. It was longer than he had thought, and while he was in no hurry to see Dean leave, he could tell they were in that uneasy gray area of his arriving departure. It saddened Castiel to think that this time next week, he would likely be having nothing but quiet drives to and from town for an extended time. But there was no point in fretting about it now. Dean was not leaving this second, so he put the negative thoughts away, ignored the tightness he felt in his chest, and pulled two plates from the cupboard before starting to make their lunch.

The past couple of days had been rather unexpected, as his days had been known to be since he met Dean. Since the blackout a couple of nights ago, he had noticed a slight change in the way the two of them interacted. Maybe he was just imagining things, or perhaps he was projecting, but sometimes when he and Dean were alone, he would catch Dean's eye, and he couldn't help but feel like there was something there between them.

He completely acknowledged the possibility that he was projecting his own feelings of Dean onto the man himself, but there was no way he was imagining the flirting, the playful banter that flowed so easily between them. Like that first day at the lake. Since then, Dean had started jogging with him in the morning, which was a very nice addition to his day. He hadn't expected Dean to be such a morning person, but each time he knocked on his door to wake him, he found the man already dressed and ready to go.

It had not escaped his notice that, though energetic and relatively cheerful throughout the day, he didn't look like he was sleeping very well. Castiel wanted to ask about it, but he knew better than to pry. If Dean wanted him to know, he'd tell him.

Like how he told him about his fear of heights. The night of the blackout would forever be a memorable one for Castiel. In the tentative moments immediately following the generators kicking on, where the light had returned to him and taken away the void, he could feel his mind struggle to regain control of his body. Logically, he knew it was only a quick power outage- not uncommon for bad storms in the mountains- but reasoning with himself was not nearly as consuming as an abrupt confrontation with his fear.

When he finally came back to himself, he found he was surrounded by warmth and a sense of safety, and he realized Dean was holding him. He could feel himself trembling against Dean, who was so solid and secure in comparison. And _oh_ , Castiel was _embarrassed_. Dreading the inevitable moment of having to explain himself, to having to confess to being childishly afraid of the dark, he prolonged the comfort, letting Dean hold him much longer than he needed.

Despite the humiliation, he couldn't deny how nice it felt to have Dean comforting him, rubbing warmth into his back even after he stopped shaking, whispering reassurances in his ear, holding him because he was afraid and needed to feel safe.

But what made that night so memorable for Castiel was not the way Dean transformed into his security blanket, but the way he reacted to what happened after. In a matter of a few sentences, he took all of Castiel's embarrassment, insecurity, and lingering fear and turning them into humor and reassurance.

Dean seemed to have this incredible ability of taking fragile, potentially painful moments and turning them into something beautiful.

Then, of course, there was that other moment, the one he was almost wasn't sure he was remembering correctly, but the more he thought about it, the more he replayed it over in his head, the more he was sure- he and Dean had almost kissed. 

He would have regretted it- the almost-kiss moment turning into a sudden anxiety attack- if it hadn't ended up bringing them closer. If anything, Castiel could almost be grateful for the power outage (almost) for granting them a reason to get to know each other more personally, sharing things they might not have mentioned otherwise.

As if having sensed his lunch was ready, Dean walked into the kitchen just as Castiel was cutting their sandwiches in half.

"Perfect timing," Castiel smiled at Dean while he washed his hands before handing him his plate. "How is the garden coming?"

"I think I've got most of the problem areas," Dean said with his mouth full. "But after this winter, you're gonna have some awesome tomatoes."

"I look forward to it."

Castiel wasn't sure how long Dean was staying, or if they were heading somewhere together, but that was okay. He liked where they were now. Everyday seemed to be bringing something new, and Castiel was more than willing to see where today would take them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in actuality _much_ , much longer, but it's not ready. Fret not, it is coming! 
> 
> Feel free to beat me up for updates. If the world works my way, you will have a longer (rest of the) chapter in a week or two!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to stay. Castiel wants Dean to stay. It _should_ be that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the rest of chapter six! 
> 
> Chapter warnings: nightmares, mentions of Dean's attack, emotional confessions, mention of Mary's death

The beginning of each nightmare was always different.

Sometimes it started out the way it happened- Dean walking to his car, and getting jumped from behind. Other times, Dean would be at a gas station, like any normal day in the life, or doing a job outdoors for someone before he was attacked.

There were scenarios that didn't even make sense- Dean falling asleep in a motel bed, and then waking up handcuffed to a different one. He would be in a store, or driving, or talking to some chick at a bar, or pulled over in the parking lot of a fast food joint enjoying lunch. It didn't matter how the dreams started, they always ended up in the same place: Dean face down on a mattress, restrained and terrified as some figure hovered just out of his line of vision.

None of the dreams had Castiel, because he never got there in time. In these nightly hells, Dean got to experience what would happen if no one was there to save him.

Dean gripped the pillow hard to stop his hands from shaking. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to throw something, he wanted to feel safe. What would make these nightmares end?

A small voice in the back of his head whispered the answer.

He glanced at his watch for the time- Castiel would be coming to wake him for their morning run soon. With a sigh, Dean put the pillow back at the head of the bed as he went to the bathroom.

Truth was, it wasn't having nightmares that was chipping away at Dean's resolve- he wasn't exactly a stranger when it came to his subconscious tormenting him- no, it was what the nightmares implied.

Each one represented all of the different scenarios that Dean has found himself in on a regular basis while he traveled. The nightmares reminded him every night how vulnerable he was on the outside.

Castiel's house was safe, and he felt safe while in it. More than safe- he felt like he was _home_. What if he left here, and was attacked again? He couldn't rely on Castiel, or some different stranger, to come to his rescue next time. Out there, Dean would be on his own. If he left here, he would be vulnerable. That was what the nightmares were trying to tell him. The more he thought about leaving, the worse they got.

But he had to leave- didn't he? He had already explained it to himself, over and over- he couldn't get complacent or let his guard down, he would be putting Castiel in danger, people were safest away from him- except the harder he tried to convince himself, the less sure he was that it was true.

What if… he didn't have to leave? What if he stayed?

Dean glanced up when the hallway light flicked on as he was leaving the bathroom.

"Oh," Castiel said in as he saw Dean. "I see you're already up, as usual."

Dean smiled fondly at the messy bed hair Castiel sported every morning. Sleepy Cas was one of his favorite versions of the man, and he liked being here to see him like this.

It could be like this every morning.

What if he stayed?

* * *

"You _could_ just stay."

Sam's tone carried with it the suggestion that Dean was being simple, and it only seemed to make Dean more argumentative.

Whenever Dean had a conflicting issue, or had difficulty making a decision, he consulted his brother. It always seemed like a good idea at the time, because he knew Sam would give him an honest opinion, and he could really use another perspective on his situation.

Dean had been talking to Sam more and more often since staying at Castiel's, and his brother already knew most of what was going on; sure, maybe Dean left out some of the more personal stuff- the blackout, and the bouts of flirting, for example- but Sam knew all of the important stuff. He would know what was best in this situation, and when he told Dean that it would be safest to pack up and go, then Dean would listen to the voice of reason that was his brother.

Except, to Dean's surprise, Sam picked the 'don't be stupid, you're safe at Cas's house, just stay there' side; he wasn't sure why, but he had pitted Sam on the 'don't trust anyone, you should have left days ago' side. It wasn't that Dean _wanted_ to leave, but to hear Sam agree with his own subconscious was unexpected.

"It's not that simple," Dean sighed. "At this point, we all know there is at least one- possibly more- hunters after me. I have to keep moving. Besides, I have a good thing here. What if I do something stupid and mess it up?" Dean thought back to that night on the couch, the maybe-was-almost-a kiss. Yeah, he was definitely going to mess this all up. "If that happens, I'll have no choice but to leave, and then I won't even have a safe place to fall back on."

"How could you possibly mess up being a guest in someone's house?" Sam asked. "The way you've explained it to me, the guy is practically begging you to stay. He _wants_ you there, you want _to be_ there, and the place is safe. What's the downside here, 'cause I'm not seeing it?"

Dean let out a long sigh as he tried to put words to his thoughts. Should he tell Sam the other reason? Somehow, he didn't think he would take it all that well.

"It's… It's just… it's not that simple," he repeated pathetically.

"I think it is exactly that simple," Sam paused, and Dean anticipated what he might say next. "Dean, be honest with me here; do you really think it is in your best interest to leave? Or are you trying to get me to talk you out of staying? Because if everything that you've told me about this guy and what he's done for you is true, and you still want to convince me that you should leave, then you've either exaggerated, or there's something more you're not telling me."

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid lawyer lie-detecting, truth-deducing superpowers.

"How did you…?"

"I know you, Dean," Sam answered, and Dean swore he could hear him rolling his eyes. "And as paranoid as you are, if you had so much as a single bad feeling about any of it, you would have high-tailed it out of there the moment you woke up. Instead, you've been there for a week now, and suddenly it's like you're looking for any excuse that says it's a good idea to go.

"Dean," Sam paused again before speaking quickly. "Dean, did something happen between you and Castiel? Because if that's the case, and you're not comfortable there anymore-"

"No," Dean interrupted. "No, it's not… it's nothing like that. Well, not really…"

Dean looked behind him, where he could just make out the kitchen window from where he sat out on the patio in the garden. This had become his favorite place to sit, right across from the chair with the worn down cushion that marked it as someone else's favorite seat.

Castiel had said he was making a run to the store, and had offered to take Dean with him if he wanted to go with him to pick some things he forgot to get last time. As much as he enjoyed the little trips in the car with Castiel, he said no.

Ever since that morning, while he lie in bed and for the first time truly considered the possibility of _staying_ , of really living here, and making this place- _Castiel's_ place- his home, he knew he needed to call his brother. He needed a voice of reason to explain to him why staying was a bad idea, because if Sam said it, then it was true. Sam had never been wrong about such matters, and Dean knew that was not a conversation he could risk Castiel overhearing.

So Castiel left, and Dean called Sam so he could hear the truth; Dean couldn't stay here.

Except that wasn't what Sam was telling him.

Dean found himself mindlessly tracing his fingertip over the many petals of a pleasant smelling yellow flower that his mother used to have in her garden. He couldn't remembered the name of it, but recalled her saying they attracted bees. When Dean spoke again, his voice was softer than usual, but he knew his brother could hear every word.

"Cas and I have been getting close. I think we… might be going somewhere. If I stay here, it might get serious, and I don't think I'm ready for something like that."

Sam was quiet for a moment in the wake a Dean's confession.

"So let me see if I understand this," Sam started, and Dean braced himself for the cringe-worthy blunt truth he was about to hear. "You have been on the run for coming on a year now, driving from place to place, working for scraps, in and out of dangerous situations, all on your own. And now this guy, the same guy who saved your sorry ass from a hunter, who has asked nothing of you, offers you a safe haven, in the form of his own personal house, and invites you to stay, not just to rest, but to come and go as you wish. And you want to turn all of that down because, and correct me if I have this wrong, you have a crush on him? Do I have that right?"

Yeah, he definitely didn't take that well.

"It's… not that… simple…"

" _Oh my god, Dean_ ," Sam snapped, and Dean had to pull the phone away from his ear a few inches. "If I were there, I'd hit you right now."

"Okay, _fine_ ," Dean caved. He had half of a confession out already, might as well go all the way at this point, right?

"I like him. Sammy, I like him a _lot_. He's awesome. We get along great, and he's easy to talk to, and he's funny, and he thinks Han Solo is WAY better than Luke," Dean smiled against the mouth piece of the phone. "He makes me happy. And I'm happy here. But…"

Dean faltered. He didn't know how to explain it right without further irritating his brother.

Luckily for him, his brother had superpowers.

"But you're scared that something is going to happen between you two, and it'll change everything."

"If I stay here, something is definitely going to happen between us, Sam."

"I know this isn't exactly in your comfort zone, Dean," Sam said. "But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. So what if you stay, and you and Cas end up together? I get why you're hesitant, but I don't see the bad in that."

"It's more than just that, Sam," Dean started. "Okay, let's entertain the idea that I do stay, and maybe Cas and I end up, like, kissing and whatever- shut up, Sammy- what if something happens? After Cas and I have gotten close? If I leave now, before there are any feelings involved, it would be better for everyone."

"Why are you so sure something bad is going to happen?"

"Because," Dean answered with a humorless laugh. "Something bad _always_ happens. Face it, Sam- I'm bad luck. Always have been. No matter where I go, I bring it with me. What am I supposed to do when it catches up with me here?"

"But you're safe there, Dean, that house is safe."

"That's what we thought about the cabin. About the house. Look what happened there."

Sam paused again, and Dean took the opportunity to keep talking.

"Yeah, it's great now, but sooner or later, the other shoe is gonna drop, just like it always does. And when it happens, I can't be here. I won't put Cas through that. I _can't_. Leaving now would be the best thing for everyone."

This time when Dean said it, he almost believed it.

"I'm not going to tell you want to do Dean. Whether you stay or go has to be your choice. I get that you wanna protect Cas, and that's very brave of you. It's also very stupid and selfish."

" _Selfish_?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam continued, "Selfish. It won't just be you that this affects, it'll involve Cas, too. I know you think this is what's best for everyone, and I don't think I'm going to be able to talk you out of that. But do you really think you leaving is what's best for you, who will have to go back to being alone and on the run, where we all have to worry about you? And do you think it's what's best for Cas? Didn't you say he's by himself up there? What will he do when you leave?"

Oh. Shit. Dean hadn't even thought about that.

"He'll just," Dean started. "Go back to what he was doing before, I guess."

"Dean, I know you're scared, and I get it," Sam talked softly, as if sensing his brother finally leaning towards reason, and needed just a little push further. "But it's okay to stay. No one is saying you have to move in and make it permanent, and by all means, if something does come up, then get out of there. But don't just take off because something _might_ happen. It's okay to take a chance.

"It's okay to stay."

* * *

Dean's talk with Sam lasted a little longer than he had expected it to (probably because he thought Sam was going to tell him something else entirely, and then he could go pack). He still wasn't settled; it was true that Sam brought him close, but he just couldn't say it for sure.

Not yet.

Turned out Sam had been having an interesting week himself; there was a large group project that was proving more difficult than he had thought. But on the plus side, Jessica was in the group. Sam had been trying to talk to her for months, but she was always too busy with school work, and had never said yes to any of his suggestions to hang out. Until they were partnered, that was; Sam made sure to finish the project as soon as possible, just to have some free time in their schedule, and finally, Jessica said yes.

Unfortunately, on the night that Sam was finally going to take her to a diner, he realized he had left his wallet in his friend's car. No money meant no dinner.

Or so he had thought, until Jessica took matters into her own hands and had them make their own dinner together at her place. They had been seeing each other ever since, and by the sounds of it, she was at least as awesome as Sam. The more he heard about her the more he approved. He couldn't wait to meet her.

Looked like Sam was having his own relationship beginnings, and Dean couldn't be happier for him.

After their talk, Dean traded the phone for some gloves, hoping to get rid of the swarm of weeds surrounding the bush with the yellow flowers. The garden was starting to look a lot better, but it still needed much more help before it could bloom to its full potential.

When his stomach rumbled, he put the gloves down and went inside to eat, only to find that Castiel already had lunch ready for him.

"Perfect timing," Castiel said with a smile that Dean easily returned.

He couldn't agree more.

* * *

"I got to talk to Sam today."

While eating the most perfect cold cut sandwich he could have asked for, and helping Castiel put things from the store away, Dean was doing some serious thinking. Given the way Castiel was slightly more quiet than usual, Dean suspected the man could tell he was deep in his own head and was grateful he didn't pry.

As usual when Dean found himself alone in a room with Castiel, he could feel that slight tension in the air that was a mixture of all their unsaid feelings and attraction to each other. A feeling that was magnified- to Dean, at least- by the inevitable choice he was about to make: whether or not to stay. Dean felt so unstable right now that he felt if Castiel so much as asked if he was okay, he would likely burst into a whole rant about every little insecurity he had.

Like a consistent itch at the back of his head, his mind urged for him to speak- _Castiel's right there, say something_ \- but he just didn't know how to voice his thoughts. He knew the time had come to reveal his answer to Castiel; he had delayed long enough, and it was time to make a decision.

 _Castiel, I want to stay_.

Just _say it_.

"How is he?" Castiel asked, completely oblivious to the ongoing battle that was Dean's inner thoughts.

"Same old, I guess. School work is getting harder by the day, but it looks like he might have himself a girlfriend."

"That's great," Castiel smiled at him, and it made him want to smile back, but he couldn't because he felt like he might throw up. "She must be quite a girl to have gotten the attention of your brother. The way you go on about him, he must be something special."

"He really is," Dean added. "He kind of helped me realize something today."

_I wanna stay here, it's not too late is it?_

"Oh?" Castiel turned towards him from the other side of the kitchen where he had been putting something into a drawer. "What's that?"

Dean paused, and his mind replayed his wishes over and over.

_I want to stay here. Can I stay here with you? I want-_

"I've been thinking…"

_And I want to stay._

"Yes?" Castiel encouraged.

"I know I said I'd give you an answer about what I was gonna do, about whether I was gonna stay or not," Dean stated.

Castiel's eyes went slightly wide in surprise, and maybe a bit of fear for what Dean had chosen. Dean knew Castiel wanted him here. Castiel should know Dean wanted to be here, too.

"Oh," Castiel recovered, and Dean could see him trying to school his face, trying to not look too hopeful. "Yes, of course. And what- what have you decided?"

_I want to stay, Cas-_

"I think I-"

_I want to stay here. I like it here. I like it here with you._

_I want to be with you.  
_

"Yes, Dean?"

_I want to-_

_But I can't._

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

 

* * *

 

_No._

_No, that's not what I wanted to say._

The look of pain on Castiel's face is brief, quickly forced into one of neutrality, but not before it pierces Dean's heart.

"Oh, I," Castiel stammers. "I understand." _No, you don't_. "I will help you make arrangements, and pack you some food for you to take, if you would like."

_No._

_Cas, I wanna stay-_

"Yeah," Dean nods. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"I, um, I have some work I need to get done this afternoon, if you'll excuse me," Castiel turns and starts to make a beeline for the stairs, but he looks back at Dean before he leaves him. "Could I ask you for something? Just one thing?"

_Tell me you want me to stay, tell me you want me here, tell me-_

"Don't just leave," Castiel asks Dean. It's the first thing he's ever asked of him. "Even if you get up early, and don't want to wake me. Promise you'll say goodbye."

Castiel's face is neutral, but his eyes are full, and they tell Dean everything- Castiel is scared, and angry, and hurt, and so lonely. They were hopeful just a moment ago, hopeful that Dean would tell the truth, but Dean is a liar, and now Castiel's hope is gone. Dean took that away from him.

Before Dean can accept the promise, Castiel leaves, and Dean is alone in the kitchen. With no purpose for his time, he looks around and remembers how much he likes this room. He's gotten to know every compartment and its contents, has gotten to use them as if they were his.

They _could_ have been his.

Dean leaves the kitchen because it doesn't belong to him, and he doesn't belong in it anymore. The room he finds himself in now is supposed to be the living room, but it looks like Castiel's bedroom. Castiel is in here, but it's a different Castiel, the one that let's Dean see everything. Castiel is scared, and angry, and hurt, and so lonely, and Dean sees it all.

"You're a liar, Dean Winchester."

_I know._

_I'm so sorry._

"I don't know what to do about that."

"It wouldn't be enough anyway," Castiel tells him. "But you could have tried."

"I have to leave."

_Liar._

"Hey, now, none of that," Castiel scolds him, and Dean flinches away from the words. Those are bad words. Castiel would never tell him that.

Before the fear grips him, Castiel is there. Gently, he takes both of Dean's wrists in his hands, holding them and the room is safe again. Dean is safe again.

"You know what happens next," Castiel whispers. "You're safe here, but you're leaving, and you know what happens when you leave-"

"Don't say it."

"He's out there," Castiel tells Dean what he knows. "He's waiting for you to leave."

_I don't want to leave. It's safe here with you._

"I can't protect you when you leave," Castiel looks so sad. He wants Dean to stay. They both know what happens next.

"I can't stay."

Dean feels the pitch of fear spike through him the moment right before he's grabbed from behind.

Castiel is still here! This realization both relieves and terrifies him, and once again, he is given a choice. Castiel is still holding onto Dean's wrists; he wants to protect Dean, and Dean feels safe with his touch so close. But it's not safe for Castiel. Dean is going to get him killed because that's what Dean does to those who are close enough to be touched, those who try to protect him. He needs to get as far away from Castiel as he can. He needs Castiel to let him go.

Dean won't be safe without Castiel. Castiel might be safe without Dean.

Dean makes his choice.

As hard as he can, he rips his arms out of Castiel's gentle grasp, pulling away from him as Castiel begins to fade. The last thing to vanish is Castiel's face, looking at Dean with the same pain from before, and it tears Dean's heart in two. It hurts to hurt Castiel. He doesn't want to. He never wanted to. But he has to.

_Tell me I did the right thing._

Castiel's room vanishes, and now it's dark and cold. There is still a bed, and Dean is on it again, but there are no ropes tying him down. This time Dean isn't being restrained, but he stays there out of fear.

This is what comes next. He knows Castiel isn't coming this time.

Dean is on his back, and a shadowy figure lurks over him, murmuring words in Dean's ear that make his stomach twist. His arms are free, so he lashes out, tries to push distance between himself and his attacker.

"Hey, now, none of that, Dean," the whispers frighten him and he wants to get away. "It's me, Dean."

_Don't fucking touch me!_

The man grabs Dean shoulders and shakes him hard, but if he's close enough to touch, that means Dean can hurt him. Dean kicks out, planting his foot on the man's chest and pushing _hard_.

" _Get off of me_!"

There was a loud crashing sound followed by a satisfying hiss of pain, and finally Dean could sit up.

There was light in the room now, but it didn't feel dangerous anymore. But where…?

A low groan brought Dean's eyes to the right side of the room where the man he had kicked had fallen and-

Oh.

 _Shit_.

"Cas?"

Castiel was sitting on the floor in front of the dresser, sprawled backwards with a hand on the small of his back where he must have collided with the furniture. There is a pained expression on his face.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean swore.

He didn't want to hurt Castiel, but it seemed that was all he did.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean could feel tears welling up and he couldn't breathe right. "Cas, I'm- I'm so sorry, I-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted him, moving to get up with a small wince that Dean couldn't help but notice. Slowly, he moved towards Dean with his hands up and his palms out, as if afraid Dean might try to strike him again. "Dean, it's okay- I'm okay."

Dean kept stammering apologies until Castiel made it to the bed, sitting next to him and pulling him into a hug.

"It's okay, Dean, I'm here. It's okay."

The moment Castiel's arms closed around him, Dean fell apart. The part of Dean that would feel shame in crying so hard, or find embarrassment in being held like this had surrendered completely to the overwhelming need to be close to Castiel. So Dean cried, his whole body shaking with each sob, as he clung to Castiel's night shirt, feeling no wrong in needing this.

Warm hands traced up and down Dean's back while a soft and soothing voice whispered in his ear, slowly easing Dean's anxiety like a balm, calming him until the shakes stopped. Dean's breathing had evened out, but he felt light headed, and it was hard to think straight. Maybe later, he could blame his mouth on that.

"Stay."

"Hmm?"

"Please," Dean whispered into Castiel's neck. "Please stay. I don't want to be alone."

Castiel was quiet for a few seconds, and Dean found himself holding his breath and inwardly pleading.

"Do you mind the lamp?" Castiel finally asked, and Dean pulled away just enough to quickly shake his head. No, Castiel could have all the light he wanted, so as long as he didn't go. "Scoot over."

The small command surprised Dean, and he leaned back far enough to give Castiel a small, hopeful look before quickly shifting to the other side of the bed to make room for him. Staying on top of the blanket, Castiel climbed fully onto the bed, laying on his back to Dean's right.

With each passing second, Dean could feel the tension from his nightmare slowly leaving his body and being replaced with a strong sense of safety. Castiel was here. Nothing could hurt Dean now.

The warmth and security that radiated from beside him was too much for Dean to resist, and he rolled onto his side, facing Castiel. There was an urge for contact that he couldn't ignore. With his eyes closed, Dean pressed his head forward, nuzzling into Castiel's shoulder.

A small movement between them caught his attention, and Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel's arm slowly turning, his palm facing up, his hand open and fingers slightly spread.

An invitation.

Hands still shaking, Dean felt along Castiel's arm, reaching down and wrapping under Castiel's left hand with his right one, turning it over so his palm faced down towards his, and twining their fingers together.

Dean's head lifted slightly as Castiel drew in a steady breath, and let out a content sigh.

For the first time in too long, Dean fell asleep not dreading his dreams. He felt safe and warm and he wanted to wrap himself up in this feeling and never leave.

* * *

 

Castiel was the first to wake up.

It took him a moment to realize what the constricting feeling in his chest was as he blinked his eyes open. When his sight came back to him, he looked to his left and his first reaction was to laugh, though he managed to hold it in.

What had started out as simple hand holding had morphed into a serious cuddle session during the night. Dean was now half lying on top of Castiel. With the blanket still separating their lower bodies, one of Dean's legs had managed to find its way between his. Dean's upper body was draped over him, with his left hand wrapped around Castiel's midsection, and his head resting on Castiel's collarbone. Their hands were still wound together, pressed between their bodies.

Castiel stared at Dean and smiled; he couldn't stop the swelling feeling he got in his chest when he saw how comfortable Dean was to be sleeping on him. And he was so beautiful when he slept.

And oh- _oh_.

Castiel let out a small gasp of surprise as he stared at Dean; how had it taken him so long to notice it? Every inch of Dean's exposed skin was glowing softly, shimmering with each measured breath the Luministia took. Castiel had never seen him with a natural, fully-body glow before. The swelling feeling in his chest expanded, filling his whole body up with the affection he felt for Dean in this moment.

If Dean was glowing, that had to mean that he was content. Castiel knew Dean never let himself be seen while he was like his, and likely wasn't like this often, not if he could help it. Which meant that, at least subconsciously, he felt comfortable enough around Castiel to shine in front of him. That realization meant more to Castiel than anything.

Especially after last night.

Castiel had bolted out of bed before he was even properly awake, instinctively running in the direction of Dean's shouts. Dean had called out to Castiel just as he opened the door to his bedroom. Within seconds, Castiel could tell it was only a nightmare. Dean was not in any real danger, but he had thought... he couldn't keep his mind from jumping to the worst possible conclusion when Dean cried his name in fear.

He flicked on the lamp and sat next to Dean on the bed, saying his name and touching his shoulder to try and get his attention, to rouse him from his nightmare. When Dean only continued to thrash against the sheets, Castiel had grabbed both of his shoulders and tried to force him awake, loudly telling Dean he was only dreaming, telling him he was there, telling him he was safe.

The kick and fall didn't hurt terribly, it had just surprised him. What hurt way worse was Dean's reaction to waking up to see what he had done. Castiel didn't know if it was a leftover instinct from being an older brother, or if it stemmed from his developing feelings for Dean now, but when he had heard Dean start to panic, he was immediately filled with the need to comfort him, to ease his fear.

So Castiel held Dean, greatly resembling the time Dean had held him when he was afraid, and just like then, he didn't want to let go.

When Dean asked him to stay, he didn't have it in him to say no. He didn't want to.

_Stay. Please, stay. I don't want to be alone._

Castiel wanted to say the same thing.

Dean was supposed to be leaving this morning, and the thought made Castiel run his hand over Dean's shoulder and pull him closer.

Judging by the sky outside, it was still early in the morning, right around the time Castiel would be coming to wake Dean up for their jog. Today, he felt no need to disturb him, had no desire to expedite Dean's departure. Besides, Dean could use a proper sleep. For now, he was content with waiting for the man to wake up on his own.

Unable or unwilling to fall back asleep, Castiel continued to gaze down at Dean, watching as he gently snored, his mouth completely slack.

He knew he shouldn't stare; it was rude and if Dean knew, he'd probably be uncomfortable, but Castiel couldn't help it. Yes, he was beautiful, but it was more than that.

Castiel loved him. But Dean was leaving.

"I want you to stay," Castiel whispered. "I don't want to be alone, either."

Just then, Dean smiled in his sleep, just a little curve of the lips, before nuzzling his head against Castiel's collarbone.

Castiel smiled fondly back, and wondered if it would be entirely inappropriate to kiss the top of Dean's head.

* * *

Between one breath and another, Dean woke up. It wasn't a slow coming-to, either; he didn't feel groggy or exhausted. Rather, he felt like he had been awake for a few hours, peacefully lying in bed.

With a stretch, he glanced up to see Castiel watching him, and he gave him a lazy smile, humming contentedly before closing his eyes again and getting resettled.

Then he woke up.

A small wave of shock jolted through him as looked back up at Castiel, everything from last night filtering to the front of his consciousness.

Without looking, he could tell he was glowing. Despite the fresh wave of embarrassment, Dean found it more difficult that usual to extinguish it, but with proper focus, he managed.

"Sorry," Castiel said it before he could. "I didn't mean to stare."

"That's alright," Dean said with a shrug. "I know I'm good looking."

He couldn't help it, it was an opening, and embarrassment made him default to bad jokes.

Still, maybe this wasn't the time or place for flirting, not after everything that had happened, and what was he thinking-

The sound of Castiel's soft chuckle cut through his self-berating, and with one word, made Dean feel slightly more confident.

"Understatement," Castiel said, and Dean relaxed against him with a small laugh of his own.

Neither one of them tried to separate from the other.

Dean stared at Castiel's hand on his shoulder, watching his thumb mindlessly slide back and forth along the hemline of his shirt.

"What time is it?"

"Half past ten," Castiel replied, and Dean looked up at him with surprise. Dean hadn't gotten that much sleep since he lived at home.

"Seriously?" Castiel nodded at him, and Dean gave a small chuckle. "Guess we're not going jogging."

"We can still go if you want," Castiel told him. "Outside isn't going anywhere."

"Maybe not today," Dean said. He didn't think he had it in him. But if not today, then when? It was morning, and Dean was supposed to be leaving soon. He would be leaving Castiel, hurting him, like he did yesterday. 

"How's, um," Dean started. "I mean, is your- how's your back?"

"It's fine," Castiel immediately reassured him. "You just caught me off guard, I wasn't really hurt."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It was an accident, Dean."

"Not just for that," Dean started. There was something about this moment that felt safe. He could tell Castiel the truth here. He had to. "I'm sorry about what I said."

"I don't...?"

"Yesterday. When I told you I was leaving. I'm sorry."

Dean felt Castiel squeeze his hand, and realized they were still twined together.

"You don't have to apologize for that, Dean," Castiel said softly.

"Yes, I do," Dean said, pausing.

 _Say it_.

"I wanna stay."

Castiel's reaction was expected, his head turning quickly to look down at Dean, who hid his face from him. He wasn't ashamed, but he was still scared.

"I don't wanna leave. I wanna stay here with you," Dean finally confessed, and each word felt like a weight was being taken away. "I'm terrified of leaving here. Every night, I have nightmares about what might happen if I do. I don't wanna go, Cas."

"Dean," Castiel whispered his name. "If that's true, then why did you tell me you were leaving? Was it because-" Castiel paused. "Do you not want to stay because of me? Did I do something? I know we've been getting close, but if that's the reason, I can stop-"

"No," Dean shook his head. "No, that's- it's not because of that."

"Then I don't understand. Are you unhappy here?"

"I love it here," Dean confessed. "It's the first place I've been since leaving my family that's felt like home."

"Then why?"

Dean knew it was too late to back out now. Castiel deserved to know.

"It's not safe," Dean whispered. " _I'm_ not safe. My mother tried to protect me from hunters. They tracked me down, and she got in the way. And now it's happening again. There's another hunter after me, and what if he finds me here? What if he goes after you? I can't let that happen, Cas, I _can't_ -"

"Hey," Castiel shushed him. "Are you saying you want to leave because you're worried I might be in danger if you stay?"

Dean stayed quiet long enough to confirm Castiel's statement.

"Dean, that's not- it's _safe_ here, Dean-"

"You don't understand," Dean said. He let go of Castiel's hand and sat up so he could see him better. It was hard enough to have this conversation at all, let alone while the person he knew he had to leave was holding him.

"Then explain it to me," Castiel said calmly, sitting up himself.

"People around me get hurt, Cas," Dean told him. "And what if something happens to you because I'm here?"

"And what if you stay, and nothing bad happens at all?"

"Something bad always happens."

"Something bad is always going to happen if you always leave before something good can come from it."

Dean didn't have an argument for him.

"I can't tell tell you what you should do," Castiel continued. "If you really want to go, I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. Just please, do it for the right reasons, not because you think you're bad luck. Give me one good, valid reason why you can't stay."

There was a lengthy pause while Dean tried to think of something. Castiel held his gaze, even while Dean wanted to hide his face again. He could feel his eyes start to burn with tears, but he kept himself under control.

"I can't."

Castiel gave him an almost smile that wasn't at all happy, but maybe a bit relieved. He brought his hand up to cup Dean's face, and Dean leaned into it. They were so close together, Dean sitting right beside him, just inches away.

"Would it help if I said I was scared, too?"

"You are?"

"Of course," Castiel said, his thumb lightly tracing his his cheek bone. "I've been alone for a very long time, Dean. Not literally- I have friends out of state that I visit, and sometimes I have to drive out to meetings for work, but personally?" Castiel averted his gaze, as if suddenly embarrassed. "It's been a long time since I've been this close with anyone. I think it's because I'm easily annoyed by others, and often find people irritating."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that, and the air between then became lighter with the sound, and suddenly, it wasn't so hard to say these things. An easy smile was shared between them that made Dean's skin threaten to shine.

"Yeah, I guess it would be difficult to like someone you found frustrating most of the time."

"It is, but I'm trying to manage."

Dean opened his mouth in mock offense before shoving Castiel's shoulder lightly, knocking his hand away and making them both laugh.

"So you like me, huh?" Dean asked teasingly, thinking, ' _Ah yes, flirting. This I can do_.'

"I like you, Dean," Castiel said, and though he still had his usual almost smile on, Dean could tell he was being serious. "I like you  _way_ more than I had anticipated. I wasn't expecting… you. I wasn't expecting this. And I'm not really sure what to do now."

"Let's not expect anything," Dean suggested. "From either of us. Let's just… keep doing what we've been doing. I mean, it's working so far right?"

"I agree," Castiel said with a nod before he fixed Dean with a look. "Wait- does that mean…?"

Catching on to his meaning, Dean smiled and nodded.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Yeah, I'm staying."

The look Castiel gave him made his eyes start to prickle, and he knew it would soon be too hard to resist it. He covered by saying he was still tired, playfully pushing Castiel back against the pillows, and resting his head back on his chest. Castiel went along without a complaint, despite Dean feeling that he had already been awake for a while. He wrapped his arm behind Dean's head, stroking his hand up and down his back soothingly.

Dean was staying. Castiel was holding him. He felt safe and warm and rested. They had slept together all night. Castiel kept touching him, wanting the contact as much as Dean needed it, and Dean couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned into Castiel's chest, closing his eyes before letting them glow. That was where it stopped, just his eyes. It wasn't much, but for now, it was enough.

Neither of them were really tired, but they both stayed there, lying together for a little while longer, neither one wanting to end this. After a while, Dean felt lips press against the top of his head, so softly he might have imagined it. Eyes still closed, Dean reciprocated by turning his head, just a fraction, and lightly kissing Castiel's chest.

He was still scared, and he doubted that would ever really go away, but it was okay. He was going to take a chance. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but Dean wasn't going to run away this time.

Dean was going to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start posting shorter chapters so that I can update more often. It took way too long to get there, but it looks like the boys are finally on the same page. Yay! Now fun things can happen! :D


	8. A/N: An apology and a promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Skip this author's rambling to go to the next chapter!)
> 
> This is unfortunately (and frustratingly) not the next chapter to "Keep Me In the Light," but a simple author's note. Sorry if I got your hopes up there, but I promise it's good news!

My loves. How do I even begin to explain where I have been and why I haven't been posting? I suppose the truth is the best place to start.

I have turned into the biggest recluse over the past year. This has been a problem for me in the past, and I had a huge relapse near the beginning of last year where I wouldn't want to socialize even online. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and that included people who read and commented on my stories, despite how meaningful they were and how good they made me feel.

Also, I am not so good at expectations, especially when people are expecting me to do well??? Yeah, that sounds dumb, but it's true; when people- friends, family, even strangers- tell me that they think I'm good at something and encourage me to keep going with it, I feel a pressure to keep being as good as they see me, which leads to the fear that I won't live up to those expectations and I'll disappoint everyone.

When this story started getting even the smallest amount of attention, I started to feel that pressure, and when I would see how many of you were commenting and following it, I wanted to make it as good as possible for all of you. And when I felt that the story wasn't what people were expecting it to be, I became reluctant to update.

And it kills me, because I have so much material for this story saved up that I have been too scared to post.

I know it sounds a little ~~crazy~~ strange to get this worked up over a fanfiction, but I love this ship and I love the people who read my stories and I have invested so much of myself into it that it is so personal and important to me.

Okay, I know I sound a little whiny, but bear with me, I'm arriving at a point here, I promise!

I have started taking steps to break out of this introverted lifestyle; I have gone back to school, which has taken up a huge portion of my time, but gets me out there and socializing. I've also started writing again.

So, coming soon, I will be coming off of the hiatus that I unintentionally put myself on and didn't warning any of you that it was happening. Hurray!

My promise to you all is this: "Keep Me In the Light" is one of my favorite personal creations, and I have quite a little pride invested in it, so I can assure you, even if I disappear for long and unexplained stretches of time, **I will never fully abandon it.** I will always come back. I cannot guarantee quick updates- making promises like that only adds to the pressure of posting- but I can promise the updates will come.

Thank you all so, _so_ freaking much for your support, for not forgetting about the story, and for putting up with an author who desperately wants to make you all happy. You have all been so wonderful and supportive and I couldn't have asked for better readers. And thank you personally to those of you who have come back and asked me to update- knowing there are people out there who are still interested helps so much!- and to those of you who stuck with the story and didn't delete it off of your subscriber's list. It means more to me than you know. 

I have reread the story, and I will be doing a bit of rewriting to fix a few mistakes I've made along the way. The next chapter is gonna take some time, but it is on it's way.

So in the end: **thank you, I love you, and I'm back!**

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds work, and Castiel finds a personal mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less of an update and more of a segue to help me get the story back on track after such a long absence, and for those who might need a small reminder on where we left off, what happened after the last chapter, and what the story is leading up to. 
> 
> Apologies for the typos. When you have the inspiration to write at 3am, you go with it, even if it means misspelling things. 
> 
> If you are still reading this, just... thank you. And I love you. More sappy feels at the end for those who want to read them.
> 
> UPDATE: I added another part to the end that I forgot to post with the original. IT WAS 3 AM AND I FORGOT IT I'M SO SORRY.

The next morning, Dean woke up late, taking full advantage of having all the time in the world. It was such a foreign feeling to him, having free time, and he felt that using that time to catch up on years' worth of dismal sleep was the best way to spend it.

It was the second day since Dean agreed to stay at Castiel's house, and to his pleasant surprise, it had yet to feel awkward, despite the intimacy they had shared just the night before last. If anything, it made them more comfortable around each other. Dean felt a little childish whenever he would catch Castiel's eye when they were in the same room and look away with a small smile, or when they would help each other in the kitchen, and touches lingered for just a fraction of a second too long.

If Dean thought about it, he supposed he might feel embarrassed and foolish over the whole thing, but the best part about all of this was that he _wasn't_ thinking. For the first time since he left home, he was just letting it all happen in which ever way felt best to him. And it seemed to be working, if his nightmares were anything to go by. Dean woke up that morning in that well-rested way that only comes from a full night's sleep. Granted, he was alone in his own bed- there had been a fleeting moment after they headed upstairs where he thought Castiel was going to ask or make the offer to stay with him again for the night, but to his disappointment, he only smiled after a small pause and bid him a good night- but there had been no nightmares.

He felt like he could breathe.

Dean walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with an easy smile on his face. Castiel wasn't anywhere to be seen; it was almost noon, which meant that he was likely working. After he helped himself to some cereal, Dean decided to make them some lunch for when Castiel inevitably came back downstairs for sustenance.

As he milled around the kitchen, setting a pot of water to boil for the macaroni and cheese, he couldn't help but take note of how easy it all felt. It had barely been a week that he had been there, and already, he felt right at home. Before Castiel had found him, he was working odd jobs just to be able to afford gas for his Baby, blowing through towns before they even noticed he had visited. And now, here he was, in Castiel's kitchen, making them lunch. It may not have seemed like such a big deal to someone who made themselves lunch in their own kitchen everyday, but for someone like Dean, it was a comfort. Such small liberties, like sleeping in, and making himself food in the same house everyday was not a liberty Dean took for granted.

This place felt like home.

There was only one small hitch to the whole thing; just because this house was feeling like home didn't make it one. It was still Castiel's. Dean was only a guest in it. It wasn't like he really lived there, or contributed to it. He wouldn't feel comfortable changing anything, even if he had the desire to. It was small, but it still bothered him, and he hoped the feeling would fade the longer he was there.

* * *

When it turned out that Castiel was busier than he was most days, Dean fixed a bowl of mac and cheese and took it upstairs for him to eat in his office, and left him to his business. As important as Castiel's job likely was, Dean hated it when he had to work. He got so bored being by himself. That was another thing he never had when he was on the go- boredom. The ultimate consequence of too much free time. He wasn't used to having nothing to do. Dean liked to be busy, to feel productive. Sitting around that house and watching TV was not productive, and the house was about as clean as it was going to get.

Eventually the only logical solution came to him, and after letting Castiel know what he was up to, he grabbed his car keys and drove towards town.

Nothing settled Dean quite like taking a long drive. It was one of the few appeals he had had when he was traveling, and he always felt that, as long as he had Baby, things would be okay. The long, winding road down the mountain was relaxing as he ventured towards town. He'd walk around when he got there, chat up some of the locals, or take in what the place had to offer. Maybe he'd pick up a few things for himself. He didn't have much, but there was a bit of pocket money stashed in his car that he needed to spend.

He found a decent parking spot and started his trek. Just a few blocks down, Dean spotted the mechanic store where he had retrieved baby when he got here, and he headed over there first, hoping to run into the mechanic and thank him properly for the care to his precious car. When he was close, he breathed in deep, enjoying the smell of gasoline and motor oil. He was close to approaching the main entrance when he heard someone swear loudly from inside the garage, and changed course heading for the disturbance.

A man, closer to John's age than Dean's, was walking quickly towards a sink, holding a rag to his wrist and dripping with what looked like blood. Quickly, Dean ran up to help the man turn the faucet on and reached above him to grab a clean towel off the ledge.

"Thanks," the man grumbled to him. "If you're here to drop something off for repair, I'm afraid we're all booked up for today."

"No," Dean shook his head. "I was just walking around, and saw the garage. Do you need some help?"

"Not with this," the man replied as he checked his hand and winced at the large gash along his thumb. Dean saw him look from his injury to the car his was fixing. It looked like it had been in an accident, part of the side door ripped open. "But if you know anyone who knows a thing or two about auto repair, I could sure use 'em."

Dean grinned before immediately rolling up his sleeves.

"Just a thing or two, right?"

The man gave him a grateful nod before calling to someone from the back. A familiar face came out of the garage as the man who helped him get Baby back walked towards him. The mechanic explained for the man to show Dean what needed to be done, and went to the backroom to fix his hand. After a quick reintroduction, Mark showed Dean where they stored the spare parts they ordered for that model and told him to help himself to any tools he might need. It didn't take long for Dean to be able to pick up on what the damaged car needed after that, and he set to work.

Dean gratefully spent the next three hours working on the car in the garage, so at ease, he didn't even notice the time pass until the mechanic came back out.

"If you work any harder today, I'm gonna have to put you on payroll," he told Dean as he offered him a clean rag and a cold water bottle with a newly bandaged hand. "Name's Tom, by the way. Can't tell you how grateful I am you decided to stop by when you did."

"Dean," he accepted the rag and started wiping his hands before opening the bottle for a much needed drink. "And it was no problem, best way I can think of to spend some free time."

"Well, if working on cars is something you enjoy, and you happen to have some extra time on your hands, we're pretty short handed over here. Be more than happy to consider today your interview. Hell, least I could do seeing as you've put us ahead of schedule."

Dean raised his eyebrows as the offer sank into him. He'd just been offered a job. As a mechanic.

"That's…" Dean started.

"You don't have to answer right away, but take our card before you head out, and give us a call."

Dean accepted the offer and told him he'd hear from him. Honestly, he'd love to have accepted the job right away, but he hesitated. Getting a job here in town would really seal the deal in him staying, and he just felt like he should talk to Castiel about it first.

Nearly an hour later, Dean pulled up to the house with his couple of shopping bags. He found Castiel in the hallway, walking towards the door as he walked through it. There was obvious relief on his face at the sight of Dean returning, even as he tried to hide it.

"Sorry," Dean offered immediately with a sheepish grin. "I was out longer than I expected. I should have called."

"No," Castiel shook his head. "No, it's fine. I was just… I mean, I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so… um, how was your trip?"

As he hung up his jacket in the coat closet, he tried not to think about how worried he had accidentally made his host, who was clearly trying to look like he was unphased with Dean's prolonged absence that day. With his too-recent history of being hunted and with that mad-man still out there, perhaps it wouldn't be out of place to check in from time to time.

When he was finished settling back into the house, he filled Castiel in on his day, telling him the highlights of working in the garage and getting to thank the man from before, stopping just before mentioning the job offer.

"Sounds like you had quite the day," Castiel told him, and the clear happiness in his expression put a light feeling in Dean's chest.

"I really did," Dean said, and the smile was hard to relax from his face. He knew his emotions were in check enough that he wasn't risking a slip up- he had been too careful to keep that in the forefront of his mind the whole time he was in the garage, never letting himself become complacent no matter how content he was. It was harder now that he was back. Maybe it was because he was finally starting to accept that this place was safe, at least on a subconscious level, but now that he was there, in the kitchen helping Castiel prepare dinner, he felt closer to slipping than he had at any other time that day.

Castiel all but demanded he wash his hands thoroughly before he went anywhere near their food, and Dean rolled his eyes because of _course_ he was going to. He dried his hands on the tea towel and reset it on the cabinet when the thought about just how domestic the whole thing felt sank into him. And in the smallest of moments, a small _almost vision_ hit him; one where he had just gotten home from working at his job at the garage in town while Castiel had been working upstairs, and was now washing his hands before they worked on dinner together and talked about their day.

It was more than an idea, it was a possible reality. It was a hope of something he had not had since he was a child.

It was a promise of belonging. Of home.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean turned to look at Castiel who was preparing to chop vegetables on the counter to his right.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel answered resting his hand with the knife to give Dean his full attention.

"I was offered a job at the garage," Dean told him with a confidence he wasn't aware he had. "I was gonna take it."

Dean knew Castiel would see it for what it meant. He had already said he was going to stay, and while he was sure Castiel didn't doubt his word, that was all it was. His word. Getting a job meant planning for the future. It meant proof that Dean was thinking long term. That he was going to stay at least long enough to collect a pay check.

True to his expectations, Castiel lit up like Dean promised him an early Christmas.

"That's-" Castiel cleared his throat and Dean watched in amusement as he checked his grin and did his best to look like it was just normal news and not like he was overly happy. "That is great news, I'm very happy that you were able to find a place for you to spend your time. I take it you like working on cars?"

"Love it," Dean replied as he went to work cooking the meat on the stove while Castiel chopped onions.

Back and forth their conversation went, simple stories of him working in his dad's garage which turned into Castiel sharing some of the things he did with his dad, and Dean took it all in. This could be his life- this  _was_ his life. He _wanted_ to do this.

And for once, he could have what he wanted.

* * *

Castiel had always been a fan of the small things in his life. The quiet drive to town, the scenery from his morning jog, and now the small details he was learning about Dean.

It was more than a little obvious that Dean was more reserved than most. He had to keep himself closed off for his own safety. Which was why it felt like such a reward when he shared something new about himself with Castiel. Like the stories from his childhood, about his love of working with cars because it was what he did with his dad, and because he liked to fix things. It may not have been a big secret, but it didn't have to be. Every time Dean told him something new felt like he was being given a bit more than Dean had given to anyone else. It felt like trust.

Castiel was also a fan of the not-so-small things. Namely, Dean's glow. Given his experiences both growing up with a Luministia and going into hiding with one, Castiel understood the importance of keeping their glows hidden- or at least, he understood as much as someone who wasn't Luministia could. Dean hadn't had the same privileges that Samandriel did growing up- he had more experience with keeping his emotions in check.

Which was why it felt like such a big deal to him when Dean slipped, which had happened more than a handful of times since he agreed to stay. At first, it had all been accidental, but after the first couple of times, it became almost like a challenge to him. He wanted to make Dean smile and laugh. He wanted to make Dean so happy that his years of training, that his instinct to reject joy faltered and he glowed.

It always started off differently, with them just talking or with Castiel doing or saying something. Sometimes Dean just gave a small smile, other times he threw his head back with a sudden and loud laugh. It was always just his eyes; Dean never slipped enough for a full glow, but it was enough for Castiel to notice, especially when he was looking for it.

It always ended the same, with Dean realizing with a small start, and immediately stopping it. Most times they both pretended nothing had happened, carrying on with their conversation or cracking a joke at the moment, but the humor would be off. Sometimes Dean looked dejected, and it only inspired Castiel to want to make Dean happy again, like they were on a never-ending loop centered around Dean's happiness.

When it happened again after dinner, while they were working on the dishes together, Castiel decided that he couldn't stand to watch Dean repeatedly force himself to not be happy, not in the safety of his home. He was going to break that loop. So help him, Dean was going to be happy.

"You don't have to do that, you know," Castiel stated as if he were commenting on the weather.

"What, load the dishwasher?" Dean looked at him with confusion. "'Cause we're pretty much already done."

"You don't have to hide yourself anymore," Castiel took a step back to lean against the counter. "I've seen it a few times, you forcing it away. Sammy used to tell me how uncomfortable it made him, I can't imagine it feels good."

"Cas," Dean shook his head as he closed the dishwasher, but kept his back to him. "I already told you, it's not safe."

"It is safe, Dean," Castiel promised him. "You're safe here. My brother was here for years, and we never had a problem."

"Well, I'm not your brother," Dean stated firmly, turning to look at him. Any hint of the glow from earlier was long gone, but he didn't look angry. He looked hesitant, even scared.

Castiel looked at him for a small moment before giving him a small smile.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said. "Quite the opposite, actually. I know it can't be easy for you to trust that anywhere is safe. I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to hide yourself here. You can let yourself be happy."

Cautiously, he took a few steps forward until he could rest a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm not trying to suggest you ignore your instincts, or to brush it off like it's not a big deal. I just want you to be happy here. And trust that you are safe." After a small pause, Castiel lightly pushed Dean's shoulder. "Alright, when you're done with your chores, come watch some more TV with me. There are at least eight more shows on Netflix I have to introduce you to."

Dean pretended to groan with frustration, but they both knew Dean loved Orange is the New Black. When Castiel endorsed a show, it had to be good.

He didn't expect Dean to let his guard down right away, but any chance he was given to nudge him in the direction of hope, he was going to take it.

It would take time. But it looked like they had plenty of it.

* * *

 

Dean stayed in the kitchen much longer than he needed to after starting the dishwasher, using the ruse of making popcorn so he could linger. Castiel had already gone into the living room to set up the TV show that they would be watching, leaving him with some alone time to reflect on what Castiel had told him.

He knew Castiel meant well, knew that he really did have Dean's best interest at heart, knew that he wanted Dean to be happy. And he was- he was happier now than he could ever have hoped- but that didn't make it okay to become complacent. Even if this place was safe, why chance it? Why risk putting himself, and now Castiel, in danger just so he could smile a little longer, laugh a little louder?

No one wanted Dean to be able to glow freely more than he did, but if being happy put those he cared about at risk, then it wasn't worth it.

With a sigh, he followed Castiel into the living room, hot and ready popcorn bowl in hand.

Castiel had taken his usual spot on the end of the couch, and Dean filled the spot next to him, sitting just a little bit closer than was maybe necessary as Castiel pressed play.

As good as the show ended up being, most of his attention was elsewhere, as it was known to be when sitting this close to Castiel. Gradually, they got closer and closer until Dean was leaning on him, and Castiel had his arm around his waist. He felt warm and secure, and he closed his eyes when he felt them start to shine.

He hated the feeling of suppressing his glow. It felt unnatural, like writing with the wrong hand, or ignoring a dull itch, but he knew he had to, knew it was best for both of them. He knew it. And still…

With his eyes closed, he concentrated on the feel of Castiel against him, how warm and steady he felt, solid and secure and safe. And that was just it, wasn't it? Castiel felt _safe_. It wasn't his house, it wasn't the seclusion of the mountains, it was Castiel.

His eyes were still glowing when he opened them, and he turned his head slightly to look at Castiel, nudging his nose against his jaw as he pressed closer. He felt Castiel's hand move soothingly up and down his side. He let it ground him as he took a deep breath, and let go as he breathed out.

It was a soft glow, hesitant and dim, but it was noticeable in the semi-darkness of the living room. He could feel it spreading out over his skin, warm and tickling under his clothes, until it reached the tips of the fingers of his hand that was resting against Castiel's chest.

He waited with baited breath for Castiel to react, but when the seconds passed and nothing happened, Dean began to breathe a little easier and relaxed against him. As if sensing his calm, Castiel squeezed the arm he had around him in a half hug that pulled Dean closer, and reached with his free hand to rest it over the one on his chest. Dean laced their fingers together and let himself smile against Castiel's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all incredible. I was not expecting the overwhelming (in a good way!) amount of support that I got after I posted that author's note. I was planning on deleting the chapter, but I don't want to lose the comments. I like to reread them for support and motivation, haha. 
> 
> Since that chapter, I have enrolled in massage therapy school, which is a second college that I am now doing full time, so my time to write is limited. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support, for your understanding, and for wanting to continue reading this barely-planned-out au that I so enjoy creating for you.


End file.
